For one week, I’ve looked at the same yellow sticky note on the bezel of my computer screen. It’s a reminder to myself to set the out-of-office message before this day comes to a close. This brief message will inform anyone trying to reach me that I’m away. Don’t bother me, please—I’m on holidays.
The task of writing the out-of-office message brings me tremendous joy. I can’t help the anticipation and the excitement. As I write those words, I dream of my next adventure. I imagine the moment when I will take a seat on some driftwood pine trunk to enjoy a cup of black coffee from my thermos while chipmunks scurry around. That’s what being out-of-office is all about.
Come May every year, I take a week off work and embark on a small adventure on my own. Nothing out of the ordinary. I simply pick a national park wfhere I’ve never been and go hiking for a few days. There is something deeply pacifying about traveling to remote, unknown areas for the purpose of losing myself in the sights and the sounds and the smells of nature—stripping away all the distractions that clutter my everyday to-do list.
The task of writing the out-of-office message brings me tremendous joy. I can’t help the anticipation and the excitement. As I write those words, I dream of my next adventure. I imagine the moment when I will take a seat on some driftwood pine trunk to enjoy a cup of black coffee from my thermos while chipmunks scurry around. That’s what being out-of-office is all about.
As a dedicated road runner, I often adhere to the same training routine: easy and recovery runs, tempo workouts, and Sunday long runs. Always close to home, I tend to stick to my preferred routes, seldom straying into unfamiliar territory. Training on familiar routes provides numerous benefits: it allows me to develop a deep understanding of my pace and to intuitively adjust my speed to match the demands of the route, ensuring a consistent and effective workout.
While the familiarity of my regular routes offers comfort and predictability, it also means it is a little bit… boring. My day-to-day runs lack the excitement of exploration and adventure. Without the thrill of discovering new paths and landscapes, I miss out on the sense of discovery and wonder that comes from venturing into uncharted territory.
My week-long spring trip helps fill this void. It’s an opportunity to break free from my usual routine and explore more. However, initially, the notion of embarking on a solo outdoor adventure seemed somewhat out of character.
Admittedly, I’m not a very strong trail runner nor particularly skilled at orienteering. My skills navigating the ups and downs of sloping terrain leave much to be desired, and the prospect of tackling demanding sections filled me with mild anxiety. My lack of grace and agility often result in clumsy missteps, and I’m all too familiar with the sensation of landing unceremoniously on the ground, my dignity momentarily shaken.
And yet, I couldn’t shake this itch. Once the idea was planted, I couldn’t stop thinking about wandering off the beaten path and allowing the trail to guide me, without knowing what surprises lay around each corner.
On a friend’s suggestion, I decided that for my first adventure, I would visit Mount Rainier National Park. Situated a two and a half drive southeast from Seattle, Washington, this iconic destination promised a perfect blend of natural beauty, awe-inspiring vistas, and thrilling hikes through rugged terrain.
Mt. Rainier offers many amazing hikes. Among them, the Skyline Trail Loop is considered one of the best, offering wildflower meadows, breathtaking views of Mt. Rainier glaciers, a waterfall, and sweeping panoramic views.
The Skyline Trail Loops is about 5.5 miles of moderate to hard difficulty, with 1,700 feet of elevation gain, offering a close-up look at Mount Rainer and the commanding 14,410 foot peak peak. On paper, it seemed ideal for my adventure: a challenging hike that would test my endurance as a road runner, yet not too technical to surpass my hiking skills. With crampons poles in hand, I felt prepared to navigate the icy trails and fields ahead.
Once I arrived to the trail, it took a couple of miles of climbs and hairpin curves my jaw dropped in awe when I reached Panorama Point, an exposed viewpoint that offers stunning vistas of distant volcanoes gracing the horizon. “You’re lucky. It’s a four-volcano day,” said the hiker standing next to me as I was trying to make sense of the beautiful scene. “It’s a clear day, so we can see as far as Mount Hood in Oregon”, he explained.
Years later, I still recall this moment vividly. Each time I set my out-of-office message, my mind drifts back to that unforgettable day at Panorama Point. While it may seem like a mundane task, it brings both relief and excitement. Relief from the routine and stress of the world, and excitement for the adventure ahead. It’s a chance to shed my usual formal outfits and embrace the freedom of getting my face dirty with mud, leaving behind everyday worries for a few days.
Nowadays, whenever I set my out-of-message, my mind travels back to that day at Panorama Point. It’s a mundane task, but one that is becoming increasingly irrelevant in our always-connected world.
The out-of-office message brings both relief and excitement. Relief from the routine and stress of the world, and excitement for the adventure ahead. It’s a chance to shed my usual formal outfits and embrace the freedom of getting my face dirty with mud, leaving behind everyday worries for a few days.
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Please note that the information provided in the Polar Blog articles cannot replace individual advice from health professionals. Please consult your physician before starting a new fitness program.
