There was a moment on the trail, somewhere between week fifteen and week twenty, when I realized something important:

If this hiking challenge had been about miles, I would’ve quit.

Not because I don’t like walking.
Not because I’m not capable.
But because the moment hiking turns into a performance metric, it stops being the thing that brings me back to myself.

And I know I’m not alone in that.

The problem with most hiking challenges

Most hiking challenges are built around numbers:

• Miles logged
• Peaks bagged
• Elevation gained
• Streaks maintained
• Days “missed”

They look impressive on paper. They photograph well. They make for great screenshots.

They also quietly train people to associate being outside with pressure.

I’ve watched it happen again and again, people start strong, fueled by novelty and motivation. Then life shows up. Weather shifts. Dogs have bad days. Energy dips. Schedules unravel.

And suddenly, the challenge that was supposed to support getting outside becomes another place to feel behind.

That never made sense to me, The trail has never asked me to be impressive.
It has only ever asked me to show up.

Why I wanted something slower, and longer

I didn’t want a 30-day reset.
I didn’t want a “crush it this month” mentality.

What I wanted was continuity.

The kind that builds quietly.
The kind you don’t notice changing you until one day you realize you trust yourself more than you used to.

So I asked a different question:

What if the goal wasn’t how far you went, but how often you returned?

That question became the foundation for The Ridge Raven Trail Year.

A 52-week hiking challenge that doesn’t care about miles, speed, or performance, only that you walk once a week and keep coming back.

Why a year matters

A year sounds intimidating until you break it down.

It’s not 52 heroic hikes.
It’s not 52 perfect weeks.

It’s one walk.
Then another.
Then another.

A year matters because it includes:

• busy seasons
• boring weeks
• low-energy days
• weather you didn’t plan for
• motivation that disappears entirely

And instead of pretending those things won’t happen, the Trail Year is designed around them.

You will miss weeks.
You will walk short walks.
You will repeat the same trail.

You didn’t fail.
You resumed.

That distinction matters more than any number ever could.

Why miles aren’t the point (and never were)

Miles are neutral.
What we attach to them is not.

For some people, mileage becomes a measuring stick for worth:
Did I do enough? Was it hard enough? Did it count?

For others, it becomes a comparison trap:
They walked farther. They did more. I’m behind.

That internal noise is exactly what keeps people from going back out the next week.

The Ridge Raven Trail Year removes that friction.

Dogs changed everything about how I hike

I hike with dogs. That alone disqualifies me from a lot of traditional hiking culture.

Dogs stop.
Dogs sniff.
Dogs have opinions.
Dogs have bad days.

Some are reactive, like 2 of mine. Some are anxious. Some need distance. Some need time.

And here’s the thing: hiking with dogs taught me more about pacing, presence, and attention than any training plan ever could.

You can’t rush a dog through the woods.
You can’t explain efficiency to a nose.

So when I say dogs welcome in the Trail Year, I mean it, not as a cute add-on, but as a design principle.

This challenge is built for real trail life:

• leash management
• sniff breaks
• doubling back
• turning around early
• choosing quiet routes over popular ones

If your hike doesn’t look Instagram-worthy, you’re doing it right.

The weekly prompts are intentionally simple

Every week in the Trail Year, I send one email.

Inside it:

• one short trail prompt
• a few thoughts or reflections from my own time outside
• an invitation, not an assignment

Things like:

• Walk like you belong here.
• Let the slowest being set the pace.
• What are you carrying that isn’t yours?

They’re not meant to turn your walk into a self-improvement project.

They’re meant to give your attention somewhere gentle to land.

Some weeks, you’ll feel something shift.
Some weeks, you’ll just walk.

Both count.

Why this is free, and why there’s also a paid option

The Trail Year is open access because walking shouldn’t be gated.

If all you ever do is:

• receive the weekly emails
• take one walk a week
• print and reuse the journal page

You’re doing the challenge fully.

The paid option exists for people who want a marker, not a better experience, just a more tangible one.

Paid participants receive:

• tree planting upon completion
• a digital completion certificate
• a Ridge Raven Token (customized by weeks, miles, or both)

It’s not about upgrading your worth.
It’s about choosing to mark the year.

Why we plant a tree

I didn’t want a medal.
I didn’t want a badge.

Walking the land for a year felt like it deserved reciprocity.

So when someone completes the Trail Year, we plant a tree in their name.

Not as a reward.
As a response.

You walked the land for a year.
We root something back.

If you’ve been waiting for “the right time”

There is no perfect week to start.

You can join at any point in the year.
You can start messy.
You can start tired.

You don’t need confidence.
You don’t need motivation.

You need one walk.

Join the Ridge Raven Trail Year

If you’re tired of loud challenges and empty goals —
If you want something steady instead of intense —
If you want a year that doesn’t disappear unnoticed —

You’re welcome here.

Join the Ridge Raven Trail Year
Dogs welcome. Always.