Growing up, I did gymnastics and martial arts, but after puberty, I started becoming uncomfortable in my body. Around 2012, I found terms on the internet that described my experience. I realized that my transness wasn't something that was wrong with me or something I needed to get rid of. There were others like me, and my identity was something I could be proud of.

I started accessing medical transition and going to the gym to work out, but I was harassed in both men's and women's bathrooms. So instead, I started running outside all year, in snow and ice, and found it to be really freeing.

In 2013, I hiked a dissection of the Appalachian Trail, and I had never backpacked or slept out in the woods by myself before. I went 92 miles in four days, which is much faster than most people. I cried every day.

On the last day, standing on the top of a mountain, right before I crossed into a different state, I could look back at the 75 trail miles and see the very first mountain I had climbed. I had walked that entire way by myself and just had such a feeling of pride and self-reliance.

Usually, I just felt so much dysphoria around my body and frustration that it wasn't what it should have been. But that day, I finished with a lot of gender euphoria, where I felt like my body could do really hard things, and my body could make me proud. It made me realize that I can endure a lot of things.

It made me want to chase that feeling, and I started section-hiking the entire Appalachian Trail. I finished four years later and I’ve done a lot of long trails and ultra marathon running since then.

Nature is very queer. Nature is not binary. I am a natural variation.

For me, getting outside and moving my body has always been very soothing and centering. I often feel most myself or most integrated in those moments. When I’m on trails backpacking by myself in the off-season, I do find myself getting lonely, but I also feel like I get to commune with nature and be kind of feral.

It reminds me that I am natural, that I am a natural variation, and that people like me have always existed and will always exist.

Society tries to say that queerness or transness is new, or is very unnatural. But I feel like you can't spend much time out in nature without realizing that nature is wild and can't be boxed in. We are no different. We are the same.

Nature is very queer. Nature is not binary. There are pieces of nature that have binary-ness to them, but it is only one of the variations. And that is such a powerful feeling to hold.

One of the things I most value about running and hiking has been meeting other queer, trans, and non-binary folks who are outside doing big hard things. It’s been a gift to be able to make community and take up space together outside. There’s such a degree of unbridled joy in being outside together, and not having to mask to be safe.

When I’m in queer or trans spaces, I become aware that I've been carrying this heavy weight because suddenly I'm like, "I feel so light. Why is this so different?"

It is pretty magical to be in a space where I'm not always thinking: “How is the other person perceiving my gender? How are they perceiving my sexuality? How are they going to react to that? Do I need to worry about keeping myself safe? Are they going to become belligerent or angry?”

Self-actualizing my gender lets me show up in ways I couldn't before

Being able to access medical transition was lifesaving and life-changing. It’s made me feel comfortable in my own skin and feel confident in my own body and my own avatar, as I'm moving through this world. Through this skin-suit, I feel more ready to interact with people in ways that might be confrontational, that might be less safe, or less comfortable.

Being more comfortable in my own skin has also helped me feel less afraid of nature. I’ve become more comfortable being alone and being at peace while being alone, rather than being afraid of what's in the darkness, and what I might encounter. I feel more confident in myself, and in knowing that I will be able to handle whatever happens while getting to feel like a part of nature. 

I’m not much different than the coyote that I saw in the desert, the rattlesnakes that I avoid stepping on, the moose that I have nearly walked into in the winter. 

We are all trying to find ways to survive, thrive, and be in harmony. I feel like being able to self-actualize my gender lets me be part of the greater community authentically as myself, which lets me show up for other people in ways that I couldn't before.

Part of what I'm hoping to do with my time while hiking outside is to let other trans, queer and non-binary people know that it's possible and that they are not alone in wanting to be outside. It's easy to believe the lie that we're unusual or that we are not exploring outdoors. Especially in sports, it's seen as a new thing that trans people want to be involved in sports or that non-binary people exist. 

But it's not. Y'all have just not been open or interested in including us, and that is different from us not being here.

I hope to use my platform to provide people with examples because it's so hard to be what we can't see and not know there are a lot of different ways to be. At the end of the day, that's what I feel most passionate about – to offer people something that I never had, which was possibilities.

You can't set yourself on fire to keep somebody else warm

If I had the chance to speak to my younger self, I would want them to know that it's okay to have to make our own spaces and that sometimes the structures that have already been built aren't going to accommodate us. That's not fair, but there’s something to be said for fighting to make the structures change, to make them grow to allow space.

But to be in that fight is also so exhausting. One of the phrases that I love is, “You can't set yourself on fire to keep somebody else warm.”

I try to work sustainably for change while knowing that I also need to take care of myself. It's a hard balance, especially when it's something that I’m so passionate about. But sometimes it's okay to say, "You know what, I don't want to deal with cis people today. I don't want to deal with straight people today. I want to have a walk in the woods where I don't have to explain myself. I can just chat and talk with a friend or I can just be by myself."

I would also want my past self to know that I will have autonomy and control over my body, where I am, where I live and who I interact with. And that will make me feel so much happier.

We don't always figure everything out, and that's okay. It's a process and it takes time. When I felt like I didn't know what my gender was, I would wonder: “How do I want to walk through the world? How do I want the world to see me?”

I would create lists of "What are the things that I know in my bones to be true?”

It would give me something to hold on to because I would know that some truths remain true, even when everything else is uncertain. Even when I'm uncertain, there's no doubt.

People around me might not understand, and that's on them. That's not on me. It's not that I'm too confused, it's that they don't get it. That hurts, but it doesn't change my truth.