Walking My Way Through Pain, Growth, & Unexpected Kindness: My 12-Hour Journey

On October 6th, I embarked on a 12-hour walk—a commitment to solitude, self-reflection, and endurance. This wasn’t just any stroll around the neighborhood; this was twelve hours of intentional walking on the Schmeeckle Reserve trails in Stevens Point, from dark to dusk, in temperatures that ranged from a chilly 46 degrees at dawn to a mild 62 degrees in the afternoon. It was a test of my mindset, body, and heart.

I woke up at 5:11 a.m. to grab my water, snacks, and to be ready for my all day journey! I go to Stevens Point, WI & set off at 6:30 a.m., wrapped in layers to protect against the cold or sunshine to come. With my new water backpack, a fanny pack with necessities, my phone on airplane mode and the sounds of early morning nature to accompany me, I started on the Trail of Reflections. My intention for the walk was to create space for whatever insights, visions, or challenges might arise regarding the work I desire to bring into the world—a vision that, ideally, would align with both purpose and financial reward.

In those early hours, surrounded by the symphony of geese on Lake Joanis, deer softly grazing near the trails, and squirrels and chipmunks scampering by, I felt a quiet peace & I’ll admit an excitement of what epiphany might be ahead for me on this 12 hour walk. There was something profound about sharing space with nature while intentionally disconnecting from the usual distractions. For the first couple of hours, I felt okay—grounded, even. But by hour three, I started to feel a nagging cramp behind my left knee, a reminder that I had launched into this challenge with zero preparation ideally. No stretching, no warm-up, just my usual quick-roll-out-of-bed-and-walk mentality. This wasn’t the typical 45-minute walk around my neighborhood, and my body was quick to remind me of that. I remember even thinking “maybe this will be a quarterly commitment to refresh myself in nature” this was such a quick thought it will be a breeze to do type thinking. Was I wrong!

Every three hours, I circled back to my vehicle, where I drank water, ate a protein-packed snack, and used the restroom to recharge because I quickly realized that my new water backpack was leaking & because I now got “the lay of the land” so to say, I was able to leave everything in the vehicle to be my homebase. By hour six, though, I hit what I can only describe as my “walking hell.” Both knees ached, and my feet were blistered in ways I hadn’t thought possible. Shoes I once deemed comfortable had turned into instruments of torture, pressing into my skin in places I didn’t even know could hurt. (Pro tip: if you ever attempt something like this, bring multiple pairs of shoes. Trust me, a change could make all the difference.)

That Turning Point

At the halfway mark, with six hours still to go, I reached a low point. I realized I wasn’t even close to finishing, and the sheer duration ahead felt overwhelming. The familiar negative self-talk started creeping in, but then I came upon a gate with a quote from Enos Mills: “The essence is to travel gracefully rather than to arrive.” That message hit me like a gust of fresh air.

I had started this walk with a mindset focused on “finishing.” I was so wrapped up in the endpoint that I’d lost sight of the beauty and lessons in each step. Taking in those words, I reminded myself that this journey wasn’t about speed or achieving some arbitrary destination. It was about being fully present, slowing down, and walking with intention.

From that point, I made a conscious effort to shift. I started taking longer, more graceful strides, trying to feel each step and be grateful for every inch I traveled. I spread my toes in my shoes, ground my feet into the earth, and felt the warmth of the sun on my face. Pain was still there, of course, but so was a sense of grounding that helped me carry on.

The Power of Health Over Wealth

At the six-hour mark, I took a break to eat lunch in my van. As I was refueling, two elderly gentlemen parked next to me, preparing for their own walk. One of them casually mentioned to his friend, “If I could choose between having my physical health or a billion dollars, I’d pick health every day. Money doesn’t matter if you can’t enjoy your daily life.” 

I had to laugh, shake my head, and thank GUS (God, Universe, Source) for sending me that reminder. Here I was, caught up in the pain and discomfort of my walk, needing to be reminded of the privilege it was to even be able to take on such a challenge. As my body ached and my feet throbbed, I shifted to a place of gratitude—for my strong legs, the beautiful weather, the well-maintained trails, and even the blisters that marked each step of my journey. Pain or not, I was grateful for the health that allowed me to push myself this far & gave me a new found energy that was needed to carry on!

Unexpected Kindness from a Stranger

The last ten minutes of my walk were some of the hardest. I was physically and mentally exhausted, pushing myself forward with mantras like, “You’ve got this,” “You’re almost there,” “You’re strong,” “You can do hard things.” I was limping, dragging my tired body forward, determined to finish.

Then, out of nowhere, I heard a friendly concerned voice call out from behind me, “Hey, pigtails, hi. You okay? You have a sad walk.” I turned around chuckling seeing a woman I’d never met before. The pain and exhaustion must’ve been written all over my face because she noticed immediately. I wanted to say, “No kidding!” but managed a small laugh and told her I had been actively walking the trails since sunrise & that I was in a lot of pain but would be alright, as I was in my LAST TEN MINUTES of finishing this grueling 12-hour walk. She congratulated me, shook my hand, and asked if I was safe getting home. Her kindness in that vulnerable moment reminded me of the goodness in people—strangers who see you, really see you, even when you’re too tired to hide your struggles.

For someone who has often been told I have “resting bitch face” and needed to “smile more,” this was eye-opening. Here was a person who saw past the neutral expression and into the heart of my struggle, and she cared enough to check in versus pass judgment on my very apparent pain. That kind of compassion left a mark on me. I may not remember her name or her exact appearance, but I will always remember the pure kindness she showed in those final, painful moments of my walk.

Lessons I’ll Carry Forward

This 12-hour walk was about more than physical endurance. It was a journey of mental resilience, emotional vulnerability, & spiritual connection. I learned that:

1.  The journey matters more than the destination: Each step is an opportunity to be present, to learn, & to grow.
2.  Kindness can be found in the most unexpected places: That stranger’s compassion is something I’ll carry with me long after the blisters heal.
3.  Health is wealth: Nothing—no amount of money—can replace the ability to move, explore, & experience life.
4.  Slow progress is still progress: There were moments I wanted to quit, but I kept moving, even if it was at a zombie-like pace. The fact that I finished is proof that slow is okay. Giving up is not an option when I can simply see the next right step for me.

As I collapsed into my car at the end of the day, completely spent, I felt an overwhelming sense of accomplishment. This experience reminded me that I am capable of doing hard things, even when every step is painful. I walked away (albeit slowly) with a deeper appreciation for life, health,& the journey itself. & maybe, just maybe, the next time I embark on something challenging, I’ll remember to stretch first!

So, would I recommend a 12-hour walk to someone else? Yes. But pack extra shoes, carry some snacks, & be prepared for more than a physical journey. You never know what you might discover about yourself along the way. Journey Mercies!
Love Yourself, Live Fearlessly, & Do All Things With Purpose.

-Becky P.

BEHIND THE SCENES BONUS -- My personal voice journal of thoughts during the walk (21min MP3 attached)