CourtSchurmanGO.com 2025-03-04

Tiger Mountain’s Beauty Remains Despite Logging

On November 2, Ajax and I headed for Tiger Mountain, a half-hour drive from home. The upper trails had been closed for private logging since July. I was eager to learn whether I’d still have a good place to hike during the approaching winter months. This blog post is a photographic tribute to Tiger Mountain’s beauty, despite the devastation on all three summits due to logging.

A Trip Up Tiger Mountain Trail

The forecast called for cloudy, dry weather before noon. We left the parking lot at 8:15, unsure what we’d find or where we’d go. A perfect day for a coddiwomple.

A man without a pack headed down the trail just ahead of us. When he turned toward the Section trail, I decided we’d try our usual route but in reverse. We turned left onto Tiger Mountain Trail. Doing so would give me an opportunity to make sure the calf I’d strained on our Pratt Lake trip two weeks earlier would be okay. (It was!)

Evergreen versus Deciduous

Right away I noticed the difference in our surroundings compared to five months ago. Deciduous leaves blanketed the trail in yellows and browns while the ferns remained lush and healthy. Yellow carpeting provided the illusion of a sunnier day both from the brightness in the sky and the path under my feet. Unless you know the trail, it might be tricky finding the path through so many fallen leaves. But over the past eighteen months, Ajax and I have hiked many of Tiger’s routes. While I don’t quite know it like the back of my hand, it’s becoming familiar.

We took a brief break (clothing for me, water for Ajax) just before nine and didn’t see a single person, one of the reasons I enjoy going mid-week, early morning, in the off-season, on a less-used trail, and in transitional weather. It felt like we had the mountain all to ourselves.

Disturbance of the Peace

A few minutes later, the first buzzing of chain saws pierced the air. My heart sank. Loggers were already at work. We would probably hear them for the rest of our hike.

I knew from recent posts on Washington Trails Association that several routes to the summit had been closed. Tiger Mountain (Exit 20 off I-90 east of Seattle) is at low elevation and perfect for hiking year-round. I wanted to see for myself what side trails remained open for future winter outings.

I have many fond memories of snow blanketing the road between Tiger 2 and Tiger 1. Ajax and I have taken many jaunts through the forest, boughs laden with heavy snow.

Our Upward Coddiwomple Continues

Unfortunately, shots like the snowy one on this blog are only memories. As you can see from the map above, the top-most portion of Tiger Mountain has been logged. The good news is, tons of wonderful hiking remains, as long as you’re not summit-hungry. Tiger Mountain Trail and the Railroad Grade both provide ample low elevation hiking, only a portion of which is currently off-limits.

We followed the TMT until we reached the marker for “K3 / Unmaintained” and followed it steeply up and across several running streams. Section/Nook, TMT, Talus Rocks, and RRG trails all have running water on them; Cable and W. Tiger 3 do not.

We leapfrogged upward until we reached the sign indicating the summit of West Tiger 2, a half-mile away, cordoned off with obnoxious orange netting. After turning east we continued beneath Tiger 1’s summit until the sounds of logging drowned out the sounds of wildlife and running water.

At our designated turn-around time, we headed back the way we’d come, navigating around a large downed tree across upper K3. When we reached the Cable Line Trail, I decided I really wanted to see what was left of the summit. We headed straight up.

A Mountain Being Loved to Death

The erosion on the Cable Line trail stunned me. Cables hang in places, looking almost like hand lines. Usually, a foot (or more) of soil covers them. So many hikers have traveled this trail, it looks as bad as the old route on Mailbox. Maybe worse.

At the sign indicating .6 miles to the summit, we turned off the deeply rutted track and continued on the much nicer main trail to the summit of West Tiger 3. Or, I should say, what remains.

Ugly Summits

Large orange barriers and warning signs indicate that the area is being actively logged and to keep out, courtesy of Weyerhaeuser. The summit of West Tiger 3 has been completely destroyed.

Logging has moved east; the summits of Tiger 1 and 2 are still being decimated. Ugly, gaping wounds stretch in every direction. My heart goes out to the gray jays, chipmunks, woodpeckers, songbirds, and other critters who once called the summits home.

And to all those hikers in the Puget Sound region who no longer have access to a great training route. Yeah, sure, now you can see Mt. Rainier from all three summits, but with no foreground.

To a hiker gawking at the destruction, I commented, “This may be worse than a volcanic eruption.” At least volcanic material becomes fertile ground, given enough time.

Tiger Mountain’s Beauty on Our Return to the Car

On our hour-long hike down the Section Trail, we only encountered one other gentleman on his way to the summit. The sound of logging dimmed and disappeared behind me, almost like a bad dream. Around us we could once again hear birds calling, squirrels chittering, and water running. My sadness turned to peace as I relished the beauty that remains intact on the rest of Tiger Mountain. The mushrooms and fungus keep doing their job decaying old logs.

Moss continues to drape branches and birds continue to create peepholes. I still recognize favorite trees from earlier photographs. No vibrant reds or oranges to speak of, but the textures and nuances of the greens, yellows, and browns soothed me.

And when we reached the large stump where I take selfies, Tuesday was no exception. What goes through our pets’ heads when they see something change so dramatically? Did the unfamiliar noises disturb him? Or was he merely hungry? What caused the startled expression on his face?

Tiger Mountain’s Beauty Endures: Take-aways

As I reflect on our November second hike, I ponder the take-away messages Mother Nature left with me:

Look for the good, the beautiful, the positive in any change, whether we perceive it as good or bad. It’s there. Logging is ugly. Yet Mother Nature heals, and with time there will again be beautiful forest growth on Tiger 1, 2 and 3. Meanwhile, the bulk of Tiger Mountain remains unaffected. It’s truly a beautiful place.
Express gratitude for what is. I am so grateful for my photo log of hikes when Tiger’s summits were pristine. I can look back on our many, many trips and remember, fondly, all the beauty we discovered as a family, with friends, or solo with my pup.
Understand the difference between change we can control (like what job to take, how much to eat, or where to move) and change we can’t (such as natural disasters, COVID or social justice policies, and local logging).
Choose to do something to manage the impact of those changes we can’t control. We have a voice; use it.
Find truth and comfort in “Serenity, courage, and wisdom.” And trust that Mother Nature will prevail.

Trash Pick-up Experiment Yields Surprising Results

When I first conceived of OcTraPiMo (October: Trash Pick-up Month, 9/28-10/28/21), I never would have predicted the outcome. My dog and I completed 35 walks of at least 30 minutes each, dedicated exclusively to picking up trash on our routes, with these exceptions. We varied our routes to cover as much ground as possible. We visited a third of our routes more than once.

Trash Pick-up Results

We invested a total of 22.5 hours in this project, recovering 5080 pieces of garbage. We averaged 145 pieces per walk (225 pieces per hour). The highest trash totals were 425 and 433 (both on walks lasting 79 minutes) and we collected the lowest number (the winner!) on October 22, the only walk all month where we gathered less trash than minutes walked (15 pieces in 19 minutes.)

Sadly, not once did we walk in our North Seattle neighborhood without seeing any garbage. Only during our 12.1-mile hike to Pratt Lake did we not find any trash.

So, what, exactly, did we find?

Most Interesting Finds

Over the course of a month, I found enough clothing to make an entire outfit, albeit of differing sizes. I left the pair of jeans with a belt in hopes that whoever left them might return for them. Someone had tossed a gray hooded sweatshirt deep into a hedge. I’d seen suspended sneakers before, but never a single shoe under shrubs until now. Socks and hats? Fairly commonplace. But a bra? Could these items have fallen out of someone’s backpack?

Most Disturbing Finds

These fell into three categories. The countless tiny plastic bits from juice box straws won as most offensive from an environmental standpoint. On repeated visits to the Olympic Hills Elementary School ground near our house, we collected dozens to hundreds of tiny pieces discarded from children who had eaten lunch outside.

Second: junk mail strewn everywhere, soaked from the rain. This disturbed me because of the eyesores the large pieces of trash created. Even worse, however: they provided proof that local thieves had been hunting through mailboxes for something of greater value.

Discarded masks, never seen before two years ago, were a very close second to a plethora of beverage containers: styrofoam, paper, and plastic Starbucks and soda cups; beer and soda cans and bottles; plastic juice boxes; and water bottles, sometimes unopened, other times punctured, occasionally reused for purposes too disgusting to repeat, and many times crushed from cars repeatedly running over them at busy intersections.

Most Offensive Finds

By far the most offensive findings were used condoms, syringes, and razors, all of which we didn’t collect. I pledged not to pick up anything that might harm me (including broken glass). But the most curious? Little blue and silver metal cylinders I’d never seen before. After finding a box of 20 under a hedge one day, I had to look up online what they were.

I guessed whoever bought them must have had some motive other than adding them to whipped cream dispensers. I was right. Oh, my stars. Naive me, I never realized people use nitrous oxide canisters — laughing gas — as a mood-altering substance. You learn something new every day.

Why I Cut the Experiment Short

I committed to my experiment for an entire month. On October 27, I stopped collecting trash. I feared for my safety not once, but twice, and realized my mental health was more important than completing the experiment.

Safety Risk 1

As we made our way from the library to the post office collecting trash, I spotted a hedge with many pieces of trash. Big pieces. I wasn’t sure I could fit it all in my bag, but the area was a complete eyesore. The bottles I pulled out were all empty. A box of cereal felt like it still had food inside. Another heavy bag did not feel like trash. Was that a bag of…groceries?

Aware that homeless people frequented the area, I suddenly thought: Is this trash or a cache? Could I be removing containers (assuming they were garbage) that were items someone had stashed for later? A fearful idea popped into my head: could someone think I’m a thief? Might I become the next victim of a local shooting accident, just for doing something innocent and helpful like collecting trash?

“That’s it. We’re done,” I told Ajax. We headed for the nearest public trash can outside a grocery store.

Safety Risk 2

But addictions are hard to break. A few blocks later, I found myself bending over to pick up more offensive litter. A man from across the busy street, hands thrust in the pockets of his beige jacket, called out, “That’s really nice of you. I do that sometimes in my own neighborhood.” My fourth thank-you in thirty-five walks.

Two blocks from our house, I stepped into a culvert for yet another beer can. A car slowed next to me. A 30-something white man in a wool cap lowered his window. “Ma’am, just wanted to tell you for your own safety. You’re really hard to spot by drivers rounding that corner.”

That clinched it. I’d put my dog and my own safety at risk while pursuing a clean neighborhood. No more. I can pick up the obvious trash at my feet. But unless I have on a bright orange neon vest, it’s unsafe to keep doing what I’ve been doing as I’ve been doing it.

Mental Health First

Returning home with a bag full of 300-400 pieces of community garbage is…depressing. I can’t help but judge fellow humans as a whole for becoming slobs.

My husband has even noticed a difference in my mood. When he joined me on one of our “trash walks” late in the month, he asked, “Do you plan to continue beyond October?” I said I wasn’t sure. “Maybe you’ve gotten everything from it that you can.” Hm.

What exactly had been the goal? Clean up the world? Spark a massive OcTraPiMo movement across the city? Make my neighborhood beautiful again? Set an example for my daughter? See what would happen? When cravings for unhealthy foods returned, I knew I had to complete the experiment that had run its course and threatened to harm me, psychologically and physically.

Why Trash Pick-up Month Was Worthwhile

I would encourage everyone to try a version of the experiment for themselves. For at least one neighborhood walk, see what happens. In my late-night mulling after developing the first draft of this post, I came to the following conclusions:

Reduce, reuse, recycle is a learned first-world mantra
“Pack out what you pack in” is a phrase engrained in me during twenty-five years with the Seattle Mountaineers
Respect for land, property, and wild life, then, must also be learned. However, it is not necessarily a value everyone shares. If you lack a roof over your head, food to eat, or a job, you may struggle to meet basic needs
Is this issue a matter of privilege? As a female Caucasian business owner with a roof over my head, sufficient food and resources, and time to volunteer, maybe I take too much for granted. I value clean, green spaces and take great pride in ownership. I have made the faulty assumption that others should share my passion for conservation and the outdoors. But many are not nearly as fortunate as I am.
Could I try imagining the story behind how each piece of trash ended up where it is?
You find what you seek. Sort of like the Punch Buggy or Slug Bug game.

November Focus and Photos

“Find what you seek” turned out to be especially important. The more I looked for trash, the more I found. My 5080 total amounts to a lot of trash. But so what? A friend pointed out, “Might those less fortunate than you use trash to mark their territory or define their boundaries?” That, and many other thoughts on this month-long journey, never even occurred to me. I am so lucky to be able to come up with and try experiments like this.

During the past three years, I’ve focused on capturing the world’s beauty and uniqueness in my photographs. In November, my goal is to look at things in a new way. If I can train myself to notice the bad, the ugly, the grotesque in a single month, what can I discover when I retrain myself to see the good, the beautiful, the wonderful?

The images I’ve added to this story are some of my most inspired and colorful during October in 2020 and 2021. My hope is that they inspire you to try something new, expand outside of your comfort zone, and learn something new in the coming weeks. Maybe I’ll see you out walking in a few days, picking up Halloween candy wrappers. For the love of all things beautiful, and for the world that we want to live in.

Backyard Wildlife Habitat: Ten Year Origin and Evolution

If you’ve followed my blog since I started posting in July 2021, you probably know how much our backyard wildlife habitat means to me. And how I am not someone with a “green thumb.” You may recall that starting this blog evolved from the idea of doing “50 home projects in 50 days.”

One of those projects was to muck out our pond, something we hadn’t done since installing it a decade ago. Last weekend, we finally got around to it. Since then, I’ve been pondering how enhancing our suburban retreat ties into the concept of getting unstuck.

Planting a Hedgerow

In 2011, we wanted to attract wild birds to our backyard feeders so we could photograph them up close. A water feature and native plants seemed like the best lure. I’ve always enjoyed the sound of running water, so we planned to include a mini-waterfall. After weeks of landscape design and research about plants native to the Pacific Northwest, we got to work.

During a long weekend in March, my husband and I prepared the soil, creating a zen-like flow to the hedgerow outlined with interlocking red brick. We spaced the larger shrubs several feet apart: red-flowering currant, Indian plum, Ninebark. Snowberry, Ocean Spray, Mock orange. Serviceberry and blueberry. We chose as groundcovers wild strawberry and crinkle-leaf creeper plants.

In two days, we turned the south part of our backyard into the infant hedgerow pictured below, leaving space to install a pond when it got warmer. We still had more research to do to find out how to make one work.

Installing a 3-tiered Pond

Phase two took place over Memorial Day weekend. First, we removed additional grass and measured how deep and wide the pond should be. Once we dug out the dirt and mounded it for the cascading waterfall, we lined the hole with carpeting to protect it from added rocks, root punctures, and critters with sharp claws.

After placing the pond liner, we filled the depression with water and added gravel. The decorative pebbles gave it a natural look and provided a variety of depths for birds of different sizes to stand on for bathing. Next, we hooked up the fountain so we’d have running water, both for our enjoyment and to attract birds flying over.

Our daughter helped fill in gaps between pavers with gravel. We built a mound for our three-tiered recycling waterfall and removed the excess liner material. After adding several water lily plants and larger rocks to mask the pond liner, we were ready to turn it on.

All we had to do was sit back and let Mother Nature do her growing magic.

Maintaining a Wildlife Habitat

Just as every home improvement project takes more time–and money–than budgeted, every goal has plenty of obstacles and pitfalls. Every story has a hero who struggles. And every goal, once reached, requires maintenance.

Whenever you take on a yard project yourself, especially if you’re not a landscape designer, it’s easy to overlook long-term maintenance costs. We love our water feature, but we’ve definitely had issues with it. Hoses clog. Unwanted algae forms on the surface. Plants die. Weeds take over. Leaves decay in the basin. As homeowners, these are all things we have to manage for years to come.

The biggest nuisance? Once every six months or so, raccoons (at least, we think) knock the fountain over, causing it to shoot water out of the basin and drain before we notice and turn off the pump. I promised that the next time it happened, I would clean out the pond and build a better foundation for the fountain before we refilled it.

That opportunity came last weekend. We all contributed to the clean-out effort, just in time for Mother Nature to blow off most of the surrounding leaves.

Wildlife Habitat Take-Away

I realize that cleaning out a pond is a tiny project and a problem of low importance in the grand scheme of things. After all, we’re living during a pandemic. Violence is increasing everywhere, our climate is changing dramatically, social injustice pervades daily experience, and political arguments divide our nation. All of these are mega-scale problems. Yet if I think about such issues, I freeze, powerless to change anything. We can’t live with powerlessness.

We must look at the macro level. What can a single person do? I can take good care of the things that matter most to me. Our backyard habitat has become a stopping point for migrating birds. It is a refuge for songbirds, woodpeckers, raptors, and hummingbirds. It attracts moles, voles, raccoons, possums, squirrels, and more. Keeping it healthy and picking up trash around the neighborhood are two things I can do locally, on a daily basis.

Take back the wild a weekend, a year, a decade at a time. By reflecting on the evolution of our habitat, I’ve seen in pictures what’s possible. If only a handful of us in every neighborhood made the same commitment to the environment, what a difference we could make.

Narrowly Escaping Injury in the Alpine Lakes Area

Three weeks had passed since my last hike to Mason Lake and Bandera. I desperately needed some solitude in nature. At the beginning of the day, I had no idea that in several hours, I would be narrowly escaping injury.

My dog, Ajax, and I usually start hiking at dawn. Tuesday, we tried something different. We headed for the mountains after dropping my daughter off at school. The familiar yearning to be “first up the trail” grew until we arrived at the Pratt Lake parking lot. At least four other groups had beaten us to the trailhead. I locked the car at 8:30, with Ajax on a leash and a restless feeling in my gut.

Race up the Mountain

We soon caught up to the largest group of six at the first fork. They turned right toward Granite Mountain. Ten minutes later, we passed a trio of backpackers taking a clothing break. All that remained were two pairs. Could they have been heading toward Granite, too? Soon after that, I felt the whisper of spider webs across my face.

I smiled and my mood improved. Even leaving this late, we were first on this section of the trail. Not only could I let my dog off-leash, but we could enjoy the peace surrounding us. No more need to race. The only deadline facing us was returning to the car by 3:15, or else dealing with rush hour traffic through downtown Seattle.

Fall Discoveries

Around us, vanilla leaf plants, ferns, and maples shone vibrant yellow. Mushrooms of all sizes, shapes, and colors peeked out from fallen leaves. Rushing streams crossed our path. Rivulets that flow from alpine springs even in times of drought now had more water volume due to October’s rainfall. I spotted small salad-plate patches of snow on the highest ridge, signs of approaching winter. But the day itself was balmy, in the low 60’s, with a slight breeze. We’d enjoy one last hurrah before storms hit the Puget Sound region.

As we hiked, I pondered blog post ideas. Other writers have written about finding creative inspiration while walking. I do, too. We reached the second fork at mile two and headed right toward Pratt Lake. At the Olallie Lake overlook, we snapped a photo of Mt. Rainier towering over the surrounding hills in the mid-autumn sky. Four minutes later, we came to the third fork. Left leads to Rainbow and Island Lakes, which I’d visited earlier this year, twice. Right leads to Pratt Lake Basin. We turned right.

Down we wound past several switchbacks. As we crossed the boulder field, I took a selfie in front of beautiful bright yellow, orange, and red maple leaves. Part of my excitement about “getting my nature fix” was enjoying fall foliage before storms blow down all the leaves. This hike did not disappoint.

A Surprising Spill Hours from the Car

Once we passed the boulder field, we entered the woods where I’d gotten stung by a yellowjacket three months earlier. I stepped down onto a slanted boulder stuck in the middle of the trail, and before I knew what was happening, I slipped.

As I landed on both feet, I felt more than heard a pop on the lateral side of my right knee, just below the knee joint. I’d fallen correctly – not on my hips, tailbone, face, wrists, or elbows. But popping is a bad sign.

Uh oh.

I gently loaded it to test it – no break, no dislocation, no fracture. No shooting pain, no buckling, no sprain. Sometimes Ajax can sense my mood shifts. He didn’t react at all. You’re okay, I told myself.

Decision Time

A tiny voice of reason whispered, “Turn around.” I was 2 hours and 20 minutes from the car, 90 minutes of which would be downhill. Once I climbed out of the basin, that is. I flexed and extended my foot, drew circles, took a few more steps – the ankle felt fine. I did a few stretches, then bent and straightened my leg. Tight.

I have a high tolerance for pain. I know a lot about the human body. I’d endured natural childbirth without pain medication. I’d also climbed Kilimanjaro five weeks after fracturing my foot. I had no swelling, nothing I could see or feel externally, just tenderness and tightness where a tendon popped.

Am I Really Injured?

This was nothing compared to incidences I’d experienced in the past. Yet except for Ajax, I was completely alone. That niggling voice of reason persisted. Could I trust my right leg to get me back out if I kept going? Was I walking into a troubling rescue situation if I continued? Was anyone else camping in the basin if I suddenly couldn’t walk? What if I fell again?

Lured by the Destination

I got my trekking pole out of my pack. I don’t always use it, but I always have one with me. The lure of the destination and the last bit of beautiful weather overpowered my logical brain. We kept going, but instead of thinking about future blog posts, I cued into bodily sensations. I can always turn around, I thought.

My pole stayed out over the next three and a half hours. I found myself leading with my left leg on unknown or steep steps. Were they slick or solid? Fortunately, we’d already descended most of the way into the basin. Walking on level ground boosted my confidence. I only had a slight limp. I could do this.

Destination Reached

For the next half hour, we traversed Pratt Lake, shooting photos of the brilliant fall foliage. At the fourth fork, we turned right toward Melakwa Lake.

Only .6 miles farther, we reached our final destination, windy Lower Tuscohatchie Lake. I took a short ten-minute break to feed Ajax, mix a protein shake, and shoot some photos. I couldn’t risk spending any more time. Not knowing whether my leg injury would become more painful, I wanted as much leeway as possible for our return to the car. We were forty minutes ahead of our turn-around time when we started back, buffeted by strong wind.

Returning to the Car

At Pratt Lake, we spotted two tents near the trail. Somehow, we’d missed them on the way to Lake Tuscohatchie. Did they belong to the three hikers we passed earlier that morning? We continued on toward the Pratt Lake traverse and took another quick snack break. Each time we stopped, I felt my calf stiffen. We had to keep it warm by moving. I’d rest it in the car.

Fortunately, I have very strong legs. They behaved as well as one might expect. We hiked out of the basin without seeing anyone else. Two miles from the trailhead, two Asian women approached with a huge fluffy dog. They didn’t respond to my greeting. Within a mile of the car, we spotted two other solo hikers, both women.

I felt the top of my calf with every step, but the low-grade ache told me I’d heal in a few days. On the way out, I briefly wondered what I would have done if I’d gotten seriously injured. What if I’d tried taking a step and couldn’t bear weight? I could have been in big trouble. And seeing so few people on the trail — nobody equipped to help anyone beyond themselves — I had to trust my ability and be self-reliant. There was no other option.

Expressing Gratitude

During the last hour, I said aloud, “Thank you X,” for all the things I was grateful for: my strong legs for getting me out safely. My boots for protecting my feet. Ajax, for his wonderful companionship. The light breeze for keeping me comfortable. The melody of the streams, and the colorful leaves. Not a single piece of trash anywhere. And the first sight of my car at 3:14.

We’d reached Lower Tuscohatchie Lake, gotten some great fall foliage shots, and made it out safely, all while avoiding panic. After several days of resting and stretching, I’m ready to hike again. Injury averted. Mental wellness re-established. Confidence restored. Mission accomplished.

Need Motivation? Get Support from Accountability Partners

A great way to stay on track with your most important goals is to engage the help of accountability partners. Such people can provide much-needed support, encouragement, and motivation at any stage.

A workout partner might meet you at the gym to exercise with you. A hiking partner can meet you at a trailhead for an adventure. A critique partner is someone who reads your manuscript drafts and provides feedback on what’s working and what is not. Accountability partners keep you on track toward your stated goal which could be in any of the above areas. They discuss how you’re doing, where you’re struggling, and what you want to accomplish. If you feel your enthusiasm waning, find a supportive buddy.

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Who Might Become Accountability Partners?

First and foremost, look for someone you trust. The last thing you need is to reveal your dreams to someone who laughs about them or tries to discourage you. You might choose a friend, family member, or significant other as your partner. Or you may feel more comfortable buddying with someone from the same gym or club. Someone, perhaps, who has reached a goal similar to yours who provides advice.

Online resources such as Meetup, Reddit, or Facebook groups, forums, or focus groups can also reveal suitable people. Participating in trips with outdoor organizations like the Mountaineers, Sierra Club, or the Mazamas can be a fabulous way to meet potential partners.

If you are a writer, you could ask someone in your writing community, critique group, or local conference to partner with you. Taking classes on something that interests you is a great way to meet other like-minded people who could be supportive buddies. For additional details about finding an appropriate accountability partner check out Five Steps to Succeed with an Accountability Partner.

The Difference Between a Teacher/Coach and Accountability Partner

Trainers, teachers, and coaches can certainly provide motivation and accountability, but they are usually paid experts in their field. Accountability partners are free! The hiking buddy who meets you at the trailhead and supplies interesting conversation could make a great partner.

I joke that my hiking accountability partner is my dog Ajax. Whenever he sees me loading my backpack the night before a hike, he knows we’re going on a fun adventure the next morning. One look in those adoring, eager eyes — rain or shine — and I know I cannot disappoint him. When I ask him for advice his answer is always, “Hike more.”

What An Accountability Partner Does

Accountability partners will listen to you, provide feedback, and help you stay on track. They provide external motivation to complement your internal motivation. I use an accountability partner within the realm of writing. We correspond by email twice a week. In each exchange, we share successes from the previous 3-4 days and outline our goals for the coming days.

By writing down such goals and committing to another person, I strengthen my resolve to follow through. I don’t want to let her down or confess that I didn’t do what I promised I would. And in return, I offer her the same support and encouragement.

Provide Friendly Competition

You can do the same for health and fitness. Tell your partner what workouts or hikes you plan to do, what time you’ll go to sleep each night, or how many servings of protein you’ll have each day. Wherever you want to make progress! Accountability partners might also provide motivation through friendly competition. I like my husband’s definition of competition: “agreeing to perform better.” That is exactly what you’re looking for. Your goal is to support your buddies to meet their movement goals, not necessarily “win” or “beat” anyone.

Your gym might offer some type of contest such as climbing x flights of stairs in a month, walking or jogging y miles, lifting z pounds, or completing specific hikes by a given date. In these cases, the goals include finding ways to inspire movement while building stronger social communities.

Help Support Change

Accountability partners can help in other segments of your life, too. Maybe you want a new job. Perhaps you need to expand your social network. Or you’re ready to change your diet, but doing so is difficult on your own. Finding someone who will listen to you, become your sounding board, and brainstorm ways to get past obstacles can help.

When Should You Enlist Help from an Accountability Partner?

Whenever you feel like you are struggling or want added positive pressure, find help. Starting out, you might feel like you need to check in with your partner every few days. As you build your habit, shift to weekly or monthly check-ins. If the first person isn’t a good fit, keep searching until you find someone who is. Be sure to exchange equally so the relationship does not become one-sided.

Why Partner Up?

We are stronger in collaborative relationships than we are working alone. It is hard to break promises we make to others. Especially those we trust and respect. Commit to your partner, schedule your accountability practice in your calendar, and get to work making changes. If I can do it, you can too. Remember, YOU ARE NOT ALONE!