Rating: 4/5, good
Full disclosure: This is my cousin’s book and I edited the first four chapters.
The Invisible Hiker is the autobiographical tale of Kira, a woman in her 20s who suffers from Irritable Bowel Syndrome (IBS), hiking the John Muir Trail (JMT) with her father, John, and her cousin, Melissa. It’s called The Invisible Hiker because IBS is considered an “invisible disability”—a disability that’s not immediately apparent to the casual observer.
The book focuses mainly on Kira’s physical struggles with her IBS-D and the rigors of the trail, but also dives deep into her psychological struggles with social comparison, body image, mindfulness, healing from an abusive relationship, and choosing whether or not to continue teaching high school.
I’ve known Kira basically since she was born and she always seemed like an outdoorsy, smiley, confident, sporty, outgoing, sweet California girl. She grew up in San Diego where most of my dad’s family lives. Her family goes to the beach and rock-climbing a lot, so she had tanned skin and sun-bleached curly hair growing up.
I remember when I was about ten years old we were staying with my cousins at a rental in Santa Cruz after my cousin’s Bar Mitzvah. The boy cousins brought an N64 with Super Smash Bros but wouldn’t let the girls play, so the girls decided to play a prank on them that night. We didn’t have many materials at our disposal, so we decided to use toothpaste to draw on their faces. While the other girls were giggling and excited about playing the prank, Kira was asking us to desist. We didn’t listen to her and got in huge trouble when the boys rolled over and got the toothpaste on the couches. Since then, I’ve always respected Kira for having an independent mind and not participating in groupthink. The fact that she was the only one who pushed back against the group when it was caught up in mischief-making shows that she possesses a strong moral compass.
I guess you could say the usual impression I get of Kira is her sun side, and the side she shows in The Invisible Hiker is her moon side (sorry, I couldn’t resist making a butt joke!). In the book, she discusses a lot of her insecurities and vulnerabilities that she doesn’t usually let show in real life.
I connected to her struggles with IBS-D because I have IBS (mostly C, sometimes D). I agree there’s a lot to be said about how having a gastrointestinal disorder affects one psychologically. There’s a lot of anxiety that comes along with having IBS: watching what you eat, knowing where the toilets are, not being able to plan flare-ups. You want to control what cannot be controlled. There’s a lot of shame, too. Because it’s kind of gross, you feel like you have to keep your symptoms secret and mask the pain around others. Having to suffer alone in silence adds a dimension of psychological pain on top of physical pain. Reading this book inspired me to be more open about my gut issues.
I never really thought of IBS as a disability before reading this book, but it technically is. There are a lot of days when I want to go out and do things, but my stomach isn’t cooperating so I end up staying home. Kira mentions how when she was teaching high school she would have to get someone to watch her room whenever her stomach was acting up. That’s one example of a disability accommodation for IBS at work.
Travel can be especially hard with IBS because you don’t have as much control over your diet and finding bathrooms and getting time to use them can be a challenge. My family has gotten used to me not wanting to eat much before a flight or not being able to stomach a big meal when dining out on vacation. The social aspect of not being able to eat certain things or at certain times can be really difficult to deal with. I’ve gotten to the point where I can resist peer pressure to eat what or when it would be bad for me, but it took a long time and a lot of repeatedly setting boundaries with people to get there. One thing people can do to support people with gut issues is to let us keep you company while you eat without putting a lot of pressure on us to eat with you. Usually people have good intentions when they push food on others, but it’s nicer to accept that sometimes people just don’t want to eat for whatever reason and not make them feel guilty or self-conscious about it.
I’m really impressed that Kira managed to hike over 200 miles with IBS! It sounds like she enjoyed her trip despite the challenges. Throughout the book, Kira describes the beauty of the trail, from high mountain peaks to crystal-clear waterfalls to stunning multicolored sunsets. It sounds like she met some cool people on the trail and got closer with John and Melissa. She wasn’t able to entirely distance herself from her problems with love and career, but it seems like all the walking and time for introspection helped her work through them.
We also see the more vulnerable sides of John and Melissa, which is really neat because they also seem very put together when you meet them casually. There were some things in here that even though I’ve known John and Melissa all my life, I didn’t know about them. I don’t know if those things would be as interesting if you don’t know John and Melissa personally, but I think Kira does a good enough job of describing their personalities (and fellow hiker Mason’s, who I don’t know but I feel like I got a good mental image of!) that their struggles would still be involving to the average reader.
The descriptions of bowel movements and hiking can get a bit repetitive, but Kira’s narrative voice brings warmth and humor. Scenes of friendship, memories, and danger break things up when they start to get monotonous.
The social justice aspect felt a little bit underdeveloped. It left me wanting more, which is both good because that means it sparked an interest and bad because it’s unsatisfying. I wonder what it looked like when the Native Americans were kicked off the Nüümü Poyo (“People’s Trail”, JMT)? What it is about hiking that makes it difficult for people of color to get into? Who is working on these issues and what are they doing? Who should a person of color get in touch with if they want support? Is there anything white people can do to help, like donating to organizations, signing petitions, or volunteering? I would have liked if there were an appendix at the end with a list of resources, including books and organizations that people could turn to for information and guidance.
Overall though, I’m really glad I read this book! If you’re interested in hiking, have IBS, or struggle with social comparison, you should pick it up! It’s amazing how sometimes you can gain more intimate knowledge of a person by reading their writing than by meeting them face-to-face. I think that accounts for a lot of what attracts me to books in the first place: the written word cuts through appearances and social expectations and allows people to meet mind-to-mind.
We all want to present ourselves well to others, but this can create a one-dimensional image of ourselves in others’ minds. I think it would be good if we could be more open about sharing our problems with others and receiving information about others’ problems. We all want to have a good reputation, but sometimes a good reputation boxes us in and makes us appear boring. Vulnerability is risky, but perfection is unrelatable. The Invisible Hiker achieves a deep level of vulnerability, and that, I think even more than the miles hiked, is what makes it inspirational.
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