Kim stood on a mountain trail somewhere in Norway. Behind her lay weeks of hiking; ahead, more weeks still. Lukas walked beside her. This was Norway på langs — their latest adventure — and it was far from obvious that they would ever end up here.
It hadn't always looked like this. The first time Kim and Lukas went mountain hiking together, in 2016, it was a disaster. Rookie mistake after rookie mistake: too heavy a pack, sleeping bags too cold for the conditions, flat foam pads that left them aching by morning. Kim laughs about it now — though she admits she feels a little guilty when she thinks back. "You have to start somewhere," she says.
The turning point
The real shift came for Kim in 2018. She went on a work-stay trip to Germany for five weeks, completely alone, to a country where she didn't speak the language. It was terrifying. But while she was there, she started running. First ten kilometres, then a half-marathon training plan. That same summer she hiked solo for a week along Kungsleden. Then she ran the half-marathon — and it went well.
"I think that year was somehow the start of understanding that I can do more than I think. I'd always assumed I was lazy, slow, weak — that I couldn't do much. But then something clicked."
The snowball effect took hold. Kim completed Gröna bandet — Sweden's 700 km mountain trail — solo. Lukas joined for half of it. Then came Norway på langs: 66 days, south to north.
The hardest part wasn't the trail
The biggest challenge wasn't the distance or the terrain. It was organising the leave.
Kim tried to get unpaid leave from her job at a paper mill. The company's senior management had a firm policy against it. Her local managers fought for her for months. It wasn't negotiable. So she quit.
"I figured I'd find a new job when I got back," she says, without regret. "Maybe even a better one."
Lukas's situation was different. His manager at the time happened to love mountain hiking and thought it was obviously the right thing to do. When Lukas later changed employer, he made the leave a condition of starting: "If I'm going to join, I need three months off." It was agreed before he signed anything.
The trick that made it real
One thing proved decisive: they signed up for Gröna bandet in December — months before they'd spoken to their employers. That commitment changed everything. Once they'd registered, backing out felt impossible.
"We'd already signed up in December," Kim says. "After that it just had to happen."
What they learned
After two long trails, both Kim and Lukas have arrived at the same conclusion. Lukas puts it plainly:
"I think it's the most common feeling — being afraid of leaving what you have. But now that we've done this twice, we've both realised it's actually easier than it feels."
The fear of leaving safety is the biggest obstacle. Not the trail. Not the job conversation. Not the budget. The fear itself.
Kim's advice: start small. A day hike, a new challenge, something slightly beyond what you think you can do. Let each small thing show you what you're actually capable of. The snowball starts rolling on its own.
The question isn't whether you can. The question is whether you dare to begin.
