A Hard Story From Hawaii, and Going Out Alone
A violent incident on a Hawaii trail has been on my mind all week — not as a reason to stay home, but as a reason to be honest about how I prepare for solo days out.
There's a court case in the news this week that I wish I could stop thinking about: an officer testifying about finding a woman, bloodied, after she was allegedly attacked by her then-husband on a hiking trail in Hawaii. A trail. The kind of place I go specifically because it's where nothing bad is supposed to happen.
I want to be careful here, because the wrong lesson is easy to grab. Trails remain among the kindest places I know, and this was not a random wilderness danger — most violence, out there as anywhere, comes from people already in the victim's life. Statistically, the drive to the trailhead is the sketchiest part of any hike. I'm not going to stop going out alone, and I wouldn't tell you to either. Some of the best hours I have are solo ones; the quiet does something the company can't.
But the story did make me sit with an honest question: if something went wrong on one of my solo days — a person, a twisted ankle, weather, anything — how long would it take for someone to know where to look? [ANDREAS: what's your actual routine here — do you send someone your route? This is the paragraph where the real answer belongs, whatever it is.] The basics cost nothing: tell one person where you're going and when you'll be back, and actually text them when you are. Not paranoia. Just the same courtesy you'd want from someone you love.
On a much lighter note, the week's other story I enjoyed was a physical therapist named Maureen McBeth making the case against the bathroom scale — apparently up to a third of people are misclassified by weight and BMI measures. Anyone active already knows the plot: you spend a good month moving more, feel visibly stronger, and the scale reports that you have gained a kilogram and should feel bad. The number can't see that you swapped some fluff for muscle. Her suggestion is to track strength and function instead — can you carry the pack up the hill more easily than in spring? — which is both better science and a much nicer way to live. The scale gets demoted to occasional consultant.
There was also a fun read on the coach behind the most impressively built team of this year's March Madness, whose actual secret was unfashionable: structured recovery and training smarter, not just harder. The strongest people keep turning out to be the best rested ones. Noted, happily.
Look after each other out there — and tell someone where you're going this weekend. 🌿