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Before the Trail
September 20, 2026 • Narrows of the Harpeth
The day started before the trail did....
I got up early and went to watch the sunrise over Nashville before I had anywhere else I needed to be. There's something about being awake while everything around you is still quiet and watching a new day begin that settles my mind. I sat there for a while just taking it in, and when I was ready, I got back in the car and headed west. Narrows of the Harpeth was the plan, but as usual, I was mostly just going to see where the day took me.
Hitting the Road
I had a destination. The rest I was figuring out as I went.
After watching the sunrise, I got back in the car and headed toward the Narrows. I knew I wanted to see the bluff, but other than that I really didn't have much of a plan. That's kind of become my favorite way to spend a day anyway. Pick somewhere I want to see, get in the car and figure the rest out as I go. I don't mind taking the long way or turning down a road just because I want to see where it goes. Half the time, finding something I wasn't looking for ends up being my favorite part.
Finding the Tunnel
Wait... where the hell did this come from?
I had no idea there was even a tunnel out here, so of course when I found it I had to stop and see what the heck it was. The sign explained that Montgomery Bell had it dug through the limestone in the early 1800s to divert water from the Harpeth and use the water to power the wheels for his iron forge. Which made it even cooler because I had literally just stumbled across it. I really wanted to climb up and get inside the tunnel, and I stood there debating it for a minute, but getting up to it meant climbing up that steep rock face with basically nowhere good to put my feet. Being out there by myself, and as "graceful" as I'm known to be lol, I decided that probably wasn't the smartest thing I've ever thought about doing. So for once, curiosity did not win.
Up to the Bluff
What I Carried Up With Me...
I don't really go on these trails without an intention anymore. There's usually something on my mind that I need to sit with, something I'm trying to work through, or sometimes something I just need to let myself feel. I don't always go looking for an answer. Sometimes I just need somewhere quiet where I can cry if I need to cry, think if I need to think, and let my emotions do whatever they're going to do without trying to stop them.
This time of year holds the anniversaries of some pretty big things in my life, both good and bad, and that morning I had been thinking a lot about who I was a year ago. I thought about everything that version of me was carrying and everything she still had ahead of her. I can look back at her differently now. I don't hate her for the choices she made or everything she couldn't see yet. I actually have a lot more compassion for her now. But I also know I don't live there anymore.
Somewhere in the middle of all of that, I got a phone call from someone I love. They told me about going back to a beach that held a lot of memories for them and finding themselves sitting there with a shell that had come to represent something they had been carrying for a long time. They cried over what had been good, what had hurt, and what was gone. Then they let the waves wash over their feet and eventually threw the shell back into the ocean.
That conversation hit me differently sitting out there by myself. We were in two completely different places, but in a way we were doing the same thing. Feeling what needed to be felt. Remembering something without pretending it didn't matter. And maybe finally understanding that letting go doesn't mean it meant nothing.
Some chapters deserve to be remembered without needing to be returned to.
A Little Lighter Going Back Down
I didn't come down from that bluff with everything figured out. That's never really the point when I go out on these trails anyway. One of the things I've learned this past year, is that you have to let yourself sit with your feelings — the good ones and the bad ones — and just feel them. Sometimes that's really hard and really uncomfortable. But I know myself well enough now to know that if I don't let myself feel whatever is there, I'll suppress it, and eventually it starts eating at me. So as uncomfortable as it can be, I've gotten used to just feeling. I let myself cry if I need to cry, pray if I need to pray, think through it, or sometimes just sit there quietly and let whatever comes up, come up. I don't always need to understand it or fix it right then. Sometimes I just need to let it be there for a while.
And sometimes I need to push myself physically too. There's something about a long climb, my legs hurting, being out of breath, and having to keep telling myself to take one more step that helps me work through whatever I'm carrying inside. It's almost like I can take some of that pain I can't see and release it through something physical. I can let myself hurt, struggle, get tired, and keep going anyway. By the time I'm finished, my body may be completely drained, but somehow my mind is always a little lighter.
Maybe that's part of why I've grown to love doing this so much. It's not always about finding the prettiest trail or getting to the best view. Sometimes I need to prove to myself that I can do something hard. Sometimes I need to sit somewhere beautiful and let myself feel everything. And sometimes I need both. Then eventually I get up and keep walking.
I started that morning watching the sun come up, found a tunnel I didn't even know existed, climbed to a view I'd been hoping would be worth it, and ended up having a conversation I didn't know I needed. I guess that's why I keep doing this. I may leave home with an idea of where I'm going and an intention for what I need to work through, but I never really know what I'm going to find along the way.
Maybe that's part of the healing too — learning that I don't have to have everything figured out before I keep going.
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