Is Hiking Just Walking? (Prepare to Fight Me)

Oh, hell no. Hiking is not just walking.

Before I dive in, let me just say—I'm in no way minimizing walking. Walkers, you're doing an amazing job. Keep putting one foot in front of the other, keep crushing those trails. I too am a frequent walker. We’re all out here making strides, literally.

But here’s the thing—I’m a stickler for calling things what they are, and let’s be real: hiking? Hiking is not just walking.

We talk about a hike the same way we talk about a walk, as if they belong in the same category. But let's take a step back (or forward), and do some basic math. A 10 km walk? Easy. You can knock that out in 90 minutes, no problem.

A 6 km hike? Oh, honey, buckle up, because that could take you four to five hours, and you’re going to feel every single minute of it.

It's not just about the distance; it's about the terrain, the elevation, and the relentless nature of it all. When you’re hiking, you're not walking on flat paths—you’re battling rocks, roots, mud, and maybe even a few unfriendly thorns and loose stones.

Walking is that thing we all do when we begrudgingly drag ourselves to work because capitalism. No skill required, no suffering involved—unless, of course, you’re attempting it in those ridiculous heels you knew were a bad idea in which case, you’ve clearly made some life choices that we really need to discuss.

Hiking, however, is walking’s over dramatic, chaos-loving cousin. It’s a saga. A full-blown, sweat-drenched, soul-searching experience where your legs are on fire, your lungs have filed for divorce, and you’re wondering why you ever thought “Yep, this sounds like a great way to spend a Sunday.”

It is tripping over an invisible rock and playing it off like you totally meant to do that. It’s slipping in mud and pretending to be fine while internally aching. It’s an incline that looked manageable five minutes ago but now has you reconsidering every life choice that led you to this very moment. It’s cursing at a fly for merely existing while simultaneously marveling at how gorgeous nature is. It’s realizing way too late that the peak you were aiming for was a false summit.

So no, hiking is not just walking. It’s walking with a grudge, an attitude, and a deeply personal vendetta. It’s a battle of endurance, and a guaranteed way to humble yourself in front of people who somehow still have energy at the top.

It's where you get to flirt with danger, wade through rivers, and briefly consider whether “death by incline” is a legitimate cause of death.

And here’s the thing—hiking doesn’t care if you’re ready or capable. When I start walking, I need a solid 20 seconds to coax my joints into functioning like a normal human. But when I hike? I take walking, turn it into a technical, soul-crushing nightmare, add sweat, pain, and suffering, and celebrate the fact that my body managed the hike despite all its complaints.

It always ends with you swearing you’ll never do this again… until next weekend.

“But I’ve walked through nature before! How is this different?” Oh, sweet summer child. That view you got? You didn’t earn it. You strolled along a flat, well-maintained path that led straight to a scenic lookout. Congratulations, you did the bare minimum.

Hiking? You EARN that view. You’ve battled through mud, been personally victimized by tree roots, scrambled over rocks and slid down at least one hill on your ass. By the time you reach the peak, you’re gasping for air like it’s made of gold because, honestly? You deserve it.

So if you still think hiking is just walking, I’ll be waiting for you at the summit. See you at the top, champ.