This Little Heart of Mine

Today I gifted myself a longer hike on a trail I last walked about four months ago. At that time, I remembered it as a 2.5–3 hour hike. Today, it unfolded into a 3.5 hour journey—just under seven miles and close to 16,000 steps.

What made this hike different wasn’t the distance. It was the way I moved through it.

Each time I felt tired or uncertain, I paused. Sometimes I checked my heart rate. Other times I checked in with my body directly—asking what she needed. More water? Electrolytes? Food? Or simply a moment to rest and breathe. When it felt right, we continued on together.

The trail had its challenges—hills and stone staircases that required steady climbing, some short, some long. And yet, what stood out was how well my body did, even with the tiredness present. I started later than I typically do, closer to 9 a.m. instead of sunrise, and with Arizona’s unusually warm winter, the temperature rises quickly. Sixty-five degrees is already warm for hiking, so I found myself shedding layers early and hydrating often.

Before heading out, I made nourishment a priority—hydrating well, drinking a protein shake, and grounding my body with seed crackers. That care carried me forward.

At the first hilltop, I reached a familiar choice point: turn back for a shorter hike, continue briefly for about an hour total, or take the longer loop—one the map suggested was under six miles. Somehow, that “under six” turned into nearly seven. And it was absolutely worth it.

The trail was alive. I passed solo women hiking, people with dogs, mountain bikers, and small groups moving at their own pace. Butterflies were everywhere, bringing lightness and joy—Monarchs among them. Flowers were blooming early, grasses were greener than usual, and even the ocotillo cactus was beginning to flower, a rare sight this early in the season.

This hike became a practice in nourishment—being present with my body, present with the land, and checking in with myself moment by moment. It was an embodied reminder of what it means to move with awareness and gratitude.

Whenever I needed a little extra encouragement, a simple phrase came through: This little light of mine, I’m going to let it shine.

Only for me, it shifted into something even truer: This little heart of mine, I’m going to make it shine.

And that carried me all the way through nearly seven beautiful miles.