From Feral Chaos to Cardinal Virtues: A Journey Through Free Will
Recalibrating the Self: Lessons from Solitude, Backpacking, and Welsh Folklore
Exploring free will is a compelling journey of thoughtful and purposeful scrutiny. I often dub it a journey of reasonable self scrutiny. What began as journaling and blogging for triathlon training has evolved into a profound recalibration—some might even call it an awakening (observing, Informing and instructing myself with plenty of cues and prompts from my wife). It required me to grow comfortable with solitude, echoing Blaise Pascal’s insight about sitting alone in a room. Through this process, I’ve steadily dismantled old habits, including the impulse to be a douchebag, and replaced them with intentional recalibration.
I rarely relinquish my agency to others—not for convenience, comfort, or simply because I can. Instead, I draw strength from the lessons learned as a partner in marriage, a caregiver to my wild and wonderfully feral children, and a committed member of my community and profession.
In an effort to live by “acta non verba”—actions, not words! I’ve recently added overnight backpacking to my practice, joining two local mentors who’ve guided me through both terrain and provide me space for personal introspection. Our last trek up Bloomington Lake via the North Fork approach was a brutal 6 mile effort. I was battling illness, and the hike pushed me to revisit some dark, formative places—where resilience and humility reside and are often birthed. I’m grateful for these two and their wells of patience.
That night, peering out from my tent, I found myself reflecting on many things. I’ve been immersing myself in Welsh folklore and culture from the 4th to 7th centuries. This journey serves as a reminder of the endurance and transformation I experience(d) during triathlon training. One time in particular, I nearly broke but instead discovered the power of recalibration and growth. These moments have led me to a deeper understanding of the four cardinal virtues: courage, temperance, wisdom and justice —and the quiet strength that comes from letting go.
@zentriathlete Not my typical sound choice but hey why not ! Recently learned a lot about welsh folklore and myth and culture emphasizing 400 CE to 600 CE era. Nodded to trees and even heard my name twice - even if it was just the brushing of my water bottle on my backpack - or was it? It was a dark humbling and recalibrating hike! #notadouchebag #stillnessisthekey #reasonableselfscrutiny #mementomori #witchtok ♬ original sound - hailey ᯓ★
Brotherhood in the Backcountry: Our Second Hiking Adventure
It appears that Garmin isn’t staying aligned with browser standards – I hear Firefox vs all others the above mapping connection worls –
We’re officially on the trail again—and it’s a bit surreal. I’m still trying to wrap my head around everything, but I wanted to capture the experience while it’s fresh. I’m putting together a blog post to document what we’ve been doing, and this latest hike deserves a proper write-up.
It started with a simple idea: three guys, tired of being cranky and cooped up, deciding to get outside and do something meaningful. We’ve each come to hiking from different paths. One of us is a rugby enthusiast. I’ve been immersed in athletics my whole life—now -endurance long-course sports like – Ironman. The third member of our trio is a bit of a mystery, but he’s local and recently completed a Spartan race with a group of like-minded guys and plays in moody jazz club ensembles. Our wives nudged us into action, encouraging us to carve out time for camaraderie and connection. And honestly, they were right—we each enjoy these adventures in our own ways, collectively we do well!
This was our second outing together. We chose the North Fork approach near Bear Lake. After passing the North Shore entrance, there’s a sharp left turn that leads to the road up to Minnetonka Cave. Just before reaching the cave, there’s a newly renovated parking area—clean, well-maintained, and surprisingly impressive. We parked there overnight and set off early for a six-mile trek into the backcountry.
The hike itself was beautiful but tough. At one point, I realized we could’ve driven closer to our destination, but that’s beside the point. What really stood out was how rough the hike was for me personally—I was battling the onset of a nasty cold. My throat and chest were tight, and I woke up Friday morning coughing up colored phlegm. I considered backing out, but decided to push through. By twilight, the sickness hit me hard, and the second half of the hike became a real challenge.
The trail climbs steadily—about 3,000 to 4,000 feet of elevation gain overall, with an 800-foot climb on the return leg. We stuck to the right at the North Fork junction and eventually reached a curious landmark: a structure that looked like a stove pipe altar, marked with a plaque commemorating 9/3/11. A story for another time, perhaps.
The Climb, the Cough, and the Camaraderie
We kicked off the hike from around 6,500 to maybe 7,000 feet elevation—hard to say exactly—but the total gain and loss was somewhere between 3,000 to 4,000 feet in overall exchange. After passing the altar-like landmark, the trail climbed a bit more before leveling out. Our goal was Bloomington Lake, but we ended up just below it. Had I not been battling my body, we probably would’ve pushed that final stretch. Still, we made the call to stay lower and camp in the wooded areas adjacent to the updated parking lot area.
One of the guys had a matinee to catch in Salt Lake, so we opted for a shorter return route. The hike in took us a little over three and a half hours—mostly because I was dragging through my own humbling experience. The way out was smoother: about 2 hours and 45 minutes. Honestly, that should’ve been our inbound pace too, but I probably added a solid half hour just being human.
The drive from Greater Cache Valley was easy and scenic. Logan Canyon had a few slowdowns thanks to fiber cable installation, but nothing too disruptive. Once we arrived, we found a nice flat spot to settle in. Not much wildlife around—just a few cattle guards to navigate. One in particular, shaped like a triangle, gave me trouble on the descent. I was feeling good until that last quarter mile, and then it hit me hard. That final stretch really did a number on me.
But that’s hiking. It’s never just about the trail—it’s about the challenge, the company, and the stories you carry back down with you.
The adventure out!
Reflections from the Hike
I’m grateful for the two friends who joined me on that six-mile hike with 4,000 feet of elevation gain. We moved at a decent pace—three and a half hours—but I was wrestling with something heavy inside. It’s been a while since I’ve felt that kind of darkness, and it crept in quietly, like twilight settling over the trail. This darkness is different in endurance sports journeys’ it’s a space where deep growth and resilience emerges. But since my groin injury, it’s becomes less familiar for a season – so it was a welcomed reminder before I kick into my next big Ironman adventure.
These two other gentlemen were quite patient. They let me work through it in my own way, on my own terms even though it was impacting them and I appreciated that. I tend to be overly reflective, but for good reason. This hike became more than just a physical challenge—it was a recalibration. A reminder of deep learned and earned resilience.
I kept a steady eye on my heart rate, half-expecting it to spike, but it stayed steady: 120s on the climb, never above 90 on the gentle ascents. Physically, I was fighting an oncoming cold but I was also mostly fine. But mentally, I was unraveling a bit. Maybe it was the relentless uphill, maybe the memories it stirred—like the time I fell backwards near Baldy when I was 18 while skiing. Earlier that day on a chair I recall thinking I’d reached the peak of everything. Ha! Life is full of ironic events!
I told G about it, how I didn’t remember ever coming up this trail before, but something about a circled set of trees triggered old memories. I’ve had some wild experiences, some I don’t look back on more than mere surface level – human lessons learned events in frail immaturity. But I’ve been more grounded deciding years ago that there was indeed something better and started to identify how to achieve that instead. Still, that hike brought up echoes of past adventures, some light, some full of deep resonating echoes and others more subtly shadowed.
During the moment when the trees formed a kind of circled cathedral overhead. It reminded me of Welsh folklore I’d been listening to—stories from 300 to 600 CE. That crown of trees felt sacred, and I gave it a little nod, like I always do when I’m out in nature. It’s my way of practicing gratitude, of being mindful. I never did enjoy my experiences in the Boy Scouts, but I emphatically carry that “leave no trace” ethic from my time with NOLS (National Outdoor Leadership School).
I thought about Blaise Pascal’s idea—that the world would be better if people could just sit quietly in a room alone. That resonates deeply with me. If you can be at peace with yourself, trust your own choices, and believe others are doing the same, maybe the collective outcome can be good. Not always, but hopefully. I had watched this clip from Ted Lasso and was immersed in the I believe and the I hope if it all.
I Believe from Ted Lasso!
Later, I also remembered the “Discrete Peak” series Liz and I did—running up from Powder something, maybe Alta. I skied there as a teenager. That place holds layers of memory. As we reached Little Baldy, I snapped back to that fall, that mental check-in. And then I thought about Juniper, our second child, maybe just before our third. How far Liz and I have come—together, apart, and back again. We’re usually in sync, even when we frustrate each other.
As we were leaving for the trip, I frustrated my wife. She’s carrying a lot. So am I. We’re trying not to destroy each other in the process and finding the new rhythm of all the new things the necessities of life brings us. There’s a lot of respect in that. A lot of growth. We often ebb and flow and each independently carry our own selves, but lean in to achieve more as a couple and a partnership. Sometimes I feel, I fail more than I’d like – I have moved many needles for myself and for her, too!
Yes, I’m big on autonomy, free will, and choice. I won’t surrender that to anyone—not for ease, comfort, or any other carrot or temptation. Because once you give it up, you lose and compromise control no matter how veiled it is in the exchange. And that’s not a trade I’m willing to make – it’s not an accountability slip that I am willing to risk.
