インスタグラムをフォローする
アウトドア企業以上の存在

Thru-hiking is a double-edged sword in Bailey's life - one that both empowers and afflicts her with comparisonitis. Here's how she stays grounded.
Watch videoA woof sounded in the dusk as my two dogs alerted me to a stranger. In the gloom, a hiker with a small backpack went striding by, hardly pausing as they continued. Watching them walk away, I felt an all too familiar feeling: insecurity.
The visibly smaller pack and the fact that this hiker must be doing bigger miles to be walking at dusk made me feel inadequate by comparison.
Logically, I knew these emotions were rather silly given that I had been hiking daily for over four months, all the way from Canada on my own route. Unfortunately, emotions don't always listen to logic.

As someone who spends a significant number of days walking every year, I have had a lot of time to consider why I often feel insecure in the outdoors. Many of the feelings I have struggled with as an adult stem from my days as an awkward middle schooler.

Back then, I was incredibly independent but also very self-conscious about my acne, small friend group, and poor fashion sense. While outwardly, I didn’t seem to care and often embraced my nerdy-ness, I often felt like I wasn’t good enough. This insecurity was only compounded by the competitive nature of the school I attended, be it grades, sports, or performing arts.
I was never the best at anything and felt as though I never would be.
Fortunately, I kept my head down and focused on my hopes and dreams.

As I became more involved in activities such as 4-H my confidence grew, especially heading into college. I started venturing outdoors more and did things on my own.
It was around this time that I really started to prioritize hiking and soon after graduating, I tackled my first thru-hike on the Colorado Trail.
Initially, I was so focused on going through the basic motions necessary for backpacking that I didn’t pay too much attention to those around me. I was conscious that others were hiking faster than me, but I took zeros when I wanted, regardless of what others were doing.

Over time, I began to feel more self-conscious: am I going slower than others? What is my pack weight like? Is my hike hard enough? And so on.
Slowly but surely, thru-hiking became a bigger part of my identity.
Originally, the 485-mile Colorado Trail was to be a one-and-done affair before moving on with my life. However, like many others before me, I caught the bug and have prioritized thru-hikes ever since.

Thru-hiking as an identity has been a double-edged sword in my life. On one hand, it has helped create a large dose of confidence.
For the first time in my life, I felt athletic and strong, like I had finally shed away the awkward teenager that still lurked in my shadow.
On the flip side, I got a taste of the challenge and wanted to prove myself further by showing that I could be the best at something.

As I have met more hikers and spent more time outside, a war has ensued. On one side, I have met hikers whom I greatly respect and who are incredibly humble and down to earth. Talking with them is a pleasure and I learn much. I have tried my best to emulate them, and they’ve inspired the part of me that truly loves spending time outdoors.
Paired with my desire to be the best, this means that when I see or talk to other hikers who are faster, lighter, or more accomplished - it can lead to a feeling of inadequacy and comparison-itis.
On the other hand, I rarely offer up information on what trails I’ve hiked and have gone through phases where I didn’t use social media at all. I like living in the shadows and am generally happier there.


Spending time outdoors has provided some of the biggest highlights of my life so far. There is nowhere I would rather be than out on the trail. Thus, it is important to me to try to keep my time outside as positive as possible and prevent my insecurities from ruining things.


A woof sounded in the dusk as my two dogs alerted me to a stranger. In the gloom, a hiker with a small backpack went striding by, hardly pausing as they continued. Watching them walk away, I felt an all too familiar feeling: insecurity.
The visibly smaller pack and the fact that this hiker must be doing bigger miles to be walking at dusk made me feel inadequate by comparison.
Logically, I knew these emotions were rather silly given that I had been hiking daily for over four months, all the way from Canada on my own route. Unfortunately, emotions don't always listen to logic.

As someone who spends a significant number of days walking every year, I have had a lot of time to consider why I often feel insecure in the outdoors. Many of the feelings I have struggled with as an adult stem from my days as an awkward middle schooler.

Back then, I was incredibly independent but also very self-conscious about my acne, small friend group, and poor fashion sense. While outwardly, I didn’t seem to care and often embraced my nerdy-ness, I often felt like I wasn’t good enough. This insecurity was only compounded by the competitive nature of the school I attended, be it grades, sports, or performing arts.
I was never the best at anything and felt as though I never would be.
Fortunately, I kept my head down and focused on my hopes and dreams.

As I became more involved in activities such as 4-H my confidence grew, especially heading into college. I started venturing outdoors more and did things on my own.
It was around this time that I really started to prioritize hiking and soon after graduating, I tackled my first thru-hike on the Colorado Trail.
Initially, I was so focused on going through the basic motions necessary for backpacking that I didn’t pay too much attention to those around me. I was conscious that others were hiking faster than me, but I took zeros when I wanted, regardless of what others were doing.

Over time, I began to feel more self-conscious: am I going slower than others? What is my pack weight like? Is my hike hard enough? And so on.
Slowly but surely, thru-hiking became a bigger part of my identity.
Originally, the 485-mile Colorado Trail was to be a one-and-done affair before moving on with my life. However, like many others before me, I caught the bug and have prioritized thru-hikes ever since.

Thru-hiking as an identity has been a double-edged sword in my life. On one hand, it has helped create a large dose of confidence.
For the first time in my life, I felt athletic and strong, like I had finally shed away the awkward teenager that still lurked in my shadow.
On the flip side, I got a taste of the challenge and wanted to prove myself further by showing that I could be the best at something.

As I have met more hikers and spent more time outside, a war has ensued. On one side, I have met hikers whom I greatly respect and who are incredibly humble and down to earth. Talking with them is a pleasure and I learn much. I have tried my best to emulate them, and they’ve inspired the part of me that truly loves spending time outdoors.
Paired with my desire to be the best, this means that when I see or talk to other hikers who are faster, lighter, or more accomplished - it can lead to a feeling of inadequacy and comparison-itis.
On the other hand, I rarely offer up information on what trails I’ve hiked and have gone through phases where I didn’t use social media at all. I like living in the shadows and am generally happier there.


Spending time outdoors has provided some of the biggest highlights of my life so far. There is nowhere I would rather be than out on the trail. Thus, it is important to me to try to keep my time outside as positive as possible and prevent my insecurities from ruining things.


A woof sounded in the dusk as my two dogs alerted me to a stranger. In the gloom, a hiker with a small backpack went striding by, hardly pausing as they continued. Watching them walk away, I felt an all too familiar feeling: insecurity.
The visibly smaller pack and the fact that this hiker must be doing bigger miles to be walking at dusk made me feel inadequate by comparison.
Logically, I knew these emotions were rather silly given that I had been hiking daily for over four months, all the way from Canada on my own route. Unfortunately, emotions don't always listen to logic.

As someone who spends a significant number of days walking every year, I have had a lot of time to consider why I often feel insecure in the outdoors. Many of the feelings I have struggled with as an adult stem from my days as an awkward middle schooler.

Back then, I was incredibly independent but also very self-conscious about my acne, small friend group, and poor fashion sense. While outwardly, I didn’t seem to care and often embraced my nerdy-ness, I often felt like I wasn’t good enough. This insecurity was only compounded by the competitive nature of the school I attended, be it grades, sports, or performing arts.
I was never the best at anything and felt as though I never would be.
Fortunately, I kept my head down and focused on my hopes and dreams.

As I became more involved in activities such as 4-H my confidence grew, especially heading into college. I started venturing outdoors more and did things on my own.
It was around this time that I really started to prioritize hiking and soon after graduating, I tackled my first thru-hike on the Colorado Trail.
Initially, I was so focused on going through the basic motions necessary for backpacking that I didn’t pay too much attention to those around me. I was conscious that others were hiking faster than me, but I took zeros when I wanted, regardless of what others were doing.

Over time, I began to feel more self-conscious: am I going slower than others? What is my pack weight like? Is my hike hard enough? And so on.
Slowly but surely, thru-hiking became a bigger part of my identity.
Originally, the 485-mile Colorado Trail was to be a one-and-done affair before moving on with my life. However, like many others before me, I caught the bug and have prioritized thru-hikes ever since.

Thru-hiking as an identity has been a double-edged sword in my life. On one hand, it has helped create a large dose of confidence.
For the first time in my life, I felt athletic and strong, like I had finally shed away the awkward teenager that still lurked in my shadow.
On the flip side, I got a taste of the challenge and wanted to prove myself further by showing that I could be the best at something.

As I have met more hikers and spent more time outside, a war has ensued. On one side, I have met hikers whom I greatly respect and who are incredibly humble and down to earth. Talking with them is a pleasure and I learn much. I have tried my best to emulate them, and they’ve inspired the part of me that truly loves spending time outdoors.
Paired with my desire to be the best, this means that when I see or talk to other hikers who are faster, lighter, or more accomplished - it can lead to a feeling of inadequacy and comparison-itis.
On the other hand, I rarely offer up information on what trails I’ve hiked and have gone through phases where I didn’t use social media at all. I like living in the shadows and am generally happier there.


Spending time outdoors has provided some of the biggest highlights of my life so far. There is nowhere I would rather be than out on the trail. Thus, it is important to me to try to keep my time outside as positive as possible and prevent my insecurities from ruining things.
アウトドア企業以上の存在