Without fail, I would see her every morning.

And it was a strange sight to see … a woman wearing heavy boots and carrying a large backpack as she walked over the bridge. Walking the bridge is a popular morning exercise routine in our community. To be honest, I’ve never understood its fascination. The exhaust fumes from the noisy cars that whiz past are a huge turnoff. But I found this woman to be very interesting, and I’d make up stories about who she was and what she was doing to entertain myself as I drove to work.

Maybe she was a homeless woman. After spending the night under the bridge, she was walking over to the public library to clean up in the bathroom. But there was something about her that didn’t quite fit that story. For one thing, her backpack looked expensive. I’d studied it and even slowed down to get a closer look. It had lots of pockets and zippers, each covered with a sewn-on patch in the shape of what looked like states or countries.

Maybe she was walking around the world to raise awareness for her sister, who was battling Stone Man Syndrome. This is actually a real thing. I’d heard a report that the disease turns your body to stone, and there’s no cure or treatment. Can you imagine how horrific that would be?

One morning, I was leaving the house earlier than usual. Not on my way to work, but on my way to the airport. I was in a very good mood, excited to be making a once-in-a-lifetime trip to Peru to see my son, who was attending college at the University of Lima. It was no surprise that I didn’t see the usual bridge walkers that morning.

The airlines want you to arrive three hours before departure for international flights—THREE hours! It’s ridiculous. After checking my bag and making my way through what seemed like a mile of twists and turns through the security check, I made myself as comfortable as possible in the hard plastic seats at the gate. At least I could people watch, as frightening as that can be at times.  I’m not sure when it became acceptable to arrive at the airport wearing pajamas—and one woman even had curlers in her hair—CURLERS!

So imagine my surprise when I spotted a familiar backpack. I’d know it anywhere … all the same patches, pockets, and zippers. If she would just turn around … and yes! It was her. This was my chance to find out who this mystery woman was. There was an empty seat next to her. Now, what was I going to say so I wouldn’t sound like some crazy stalker.

She was very friendly, and as it turned out, we were on the same flight. She explained that she had been planning her trip to Peru for a year—A YEAR!—and was building her endurance by walking the bridge while carrying her backpack to prepare for hiking the Inca Trail. We had a nice conversation, but the whole time a huge wave of anxiety was building in the pit of my stomach. I had purchased Rick Steeve’s travel book. I just hadn’t read it yet and had no earthly idea what the Inca Trail was.

Once we boarded the plane and were no longer seated next to each other, I retrieved my book and turned to the appropriate page: “The Classic Inca Trail is a moderate 26-mile hike. The hike typically takes 4 days to complete. The trek is challenging, but with a good fitness routine prior to the hike, most hikers complete the trek.”

So that was out. I hadn’t done any training at all. The adage, “Failure to plan is planning to fail,” kept running through my mind. My usual routine when making a trip is to plan every detail, and I couldn’t believe I was in this position. My only excuse was that I was going to see my son; that was the purpose of the trip. As I read more about my destination, I hoped that we would see some of the popular sights: Machu Picchu, Lake Titicaca, and maybe even the giant condors. And we did … well, except for the giant condors … the bus got a flat tire, so we didn’t make it.

The trip was a life-changing experience, not just because of the beautiful historical ruins and hiking trails, which I was able to do—even without training.

It showed me that sometimes you will not fail, even if you fail to plan.