๐—ง๐—ต๐—ฒ๐˜† ๐—–๐—ฎ๐—น๐—น ๐— ๐—ฒ ๐—ช๐—ฒ๐—ถ๐—ฟ๐—ฑ , ask me why i trek?


They say I'm weird because I prefer getting muddy and tired in the trails during weekends, while they dress up and  go partying . Maybe I am. While they chase loud music and flashing lights, I chase sunrises and the sound of rustling leaves. And you know what? I wouldn’t trade this “weirdness” for anything.

My friends don’t get it. “Why do you want to get dirty in the mountains?” they ask. “It’s so much more fun to hang out with us, drink, and meet new people.” And sure, I’ve tried it. I’ve been to the parties, laughed at the small talk, and pretended to enjoy overpriced cocktails. But something always felt... empty. The loud beats and crowded spaces drained me more than they energized me.

Out on the trail, I feel alive. There’s something magical about standing at the summit, lungs burning from the climb, but your heart feeling so full. The view stretches endlessly, and for a moment, nothing else matters. No deadlines, no drama, just you and the mountain.

They don’t understand how refreshing it is to walk through a forest, hearing nothing but the crunch of your boots and the occasional chirping of birds. They can’t imagine the joy of sharing instant noodles with fellow hikers after a long climb, or the deep conversations under a star-filled sky.

“Don’t you get bored? Don’t you feel lonely?” they ask. But how could I feel lonely when the mountains have taught me so much? I’ve learned patience as I tackled steep trails, resilience as I faced sudden rains, and gratitude for simple things like a dry pair of socks or a warm cup of coffee.

They laugh when I come home with scratches and stories about leeches, but those moments make life feel real. I don’t mind getting rained on or slipping in mud. It reminds me that life isn’t supposed to be perfect. It’s supposed to be experienced.

And honestly, I’m not against partying or socializing. I just don’t need it every weekend to feel fulfilled. My social life happens in group hikes, where strangers quickly become friends over shared struggles and shared victories. We cheer each other on during tough climbs, swap snacks at rest stops, and laugh over campfire stories.

Sometimes, I wonder if they’re the weird ones. Isn’t it strange to spend hours in loud, crowded places and call that “fun”? Isn’t it odd to measure enjoyment by how drunk you got the night before?

But I’ve stopped trying to explain. This is my version of happiness. This is my therapy, my reset button after a week of chaos. It may be “weird,” but it’s also beautiful, fulfilling, and ridiculously fun.

So yes, I’d rather have aching legs and a sunburn than a hangover. I’d rather spend my weekends chasing peaks than chasing shots. If that makes me weird, then I’ll proudly own it. Because out here, in the fresh air and open spaces, I’ve never felt more like myself.

Yogita

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