When I arrived at my Pittsburgh friend’s cute Mt Lebanon neighborhood last week, I was a little bedraggled and lugging a duffle bag so large you could stuff at least one grown adult inside.

I was supposed to prepare for just a few days but was ready for at least two weeks. Lacking the discipline to figure out what to pack, it seems I just took everything.

I called it the manifestation of all that was happening inside my brain as her husband lugged it inside.

And so began our annual Labor Day tradition.

Sometimes we go places. Last year we took the train from Pittsburgh to Philadelphia and hit all the historic sites. Sometimes we stick around Pittsburgh and she gives me the insider’s experience all over her city.

This year we did both – running away for a bit to soak in the beauty of Presque Isle State Park at Lake Erie.

It was somewhere in the middle of that park that I began to breathe better and to remember who I am. Was it when Nichola told me to turn around just in time to see a bald eagle glide across the trees? Was it when we rounded the bend of an overgrown path to unexpectedly find ourselves on shore line? Was it on a striped blanket on a chilly August Saturday as we waited for the sun to set?

I suppose it was in all of these places that I felt true joy and a connection to nature. Verizon doesn’t work great at the island so my phone barely made a peep, making it possible to enjoy life without distraction.

It has been a while since I have been able to hike consistently and comfortably. It has been a long, hard summer with the heat, humidity and a meniscus tear slowing me down.

To stand beneath a blue sky and simply breathe cooler air was such a gift. Sand between my toes as the water lapped at my ankles felt like therapy. To hear the chirp of an osprey as it soared overhead felt like a reward for good behavior. A pocketful of tiny shells and pebbles felt like presents from nature to help me recall the windswept day on the beach when I found myself again.

I’m not sure how many times I have to wear myself out and lose track of my own identity only to rediscover it while adventuring but I’m grateful every time I make my way back to me again.