Apr 25

Apr 25 Where Have I Been?

This! This is why I risk disappointment!

“You may be disappointed if you fail, but you are doomed if you don’t try.”

— Beverly Sills

2023 was a year of disappointment (that felt like doom), followed by affirmation (that felt like sunshine after a long rain).

It’s still hard for me to admit failure, but fail I did, not once, but twice, on both ends of the Continental Divide Trail.

I modeled the definition of insanity with a little help from the unique challenges of both desert hiking and overcrowded National Park hiking.

Q: How many times do you have to do the same thing over and over, getting the same results, longing for a different result, before you realize that something needs to change?

A: At least two (not counting the first half dozen)

Once in New Mexico, recovering from two ankles mangled by desert walking (pack so heavy, ground so shifty or hard, water so far, sun so fiery), stuck for hours in the Tranquil Buzz coffee shop thinking about what went wrong.

Again in Montana, this time with a knee metaphorically jabbed by an ice pick with each step and another bout of ankle malfunction, stuck again at Luna’s hostel, hiding from the hustle of healthy hikers, again thinking about what went wrong.

Trying hard not to conclude my hiking days are over, I don’t have what it takes, I’m not enough.

Unable to imagine what life without hiking will look like.

I got a little taste, which left me hankering for more.

A failure of imagination saves me.

Because I am incapable of imagining life without hiking, I imagined, instead, what I would have to do differently the next time in order to avoid being a perpetual poster child for Einstein’s Parable of Quantum Insanity.

Here are some initial thoughts, particular to me, your mileage may vary:

Start slow with low miles days.
Hike alone in order to set my own pace and stop worrying that I’m slowing someone else down. (My most successful hikes have been my solo hikes…I’ve known this for years).
Train to my known weaknesses (gluteus medius, y’all) and injury patterns (those fucking ankles).
Take a long shakedown hike to establish my trail legs before getting on a trail that doesn’t allow for a slow start (like a desert trail or a trail with long distances between permitted campsites). Maybe just avoid the desert and the whole undertow of thru-hiking thinking, which means…
Redefine success, as in, I’m hiking to be somewhere, not get somewhere. This is the most important tenet of my manifesto, one to keep top of mind every step of the way.

Putting it into practice

Eventually my knee healed. My ankle healed. I consulted a shoe guy and did a bunch of squats and I got back out there in October.

I set a goal, listened to my body, heeded my manifesto and proved to myself that this long distance hiking thing still has a place in my repertoire of hobbies that make life worth living.

And now that another hiking season is here, I’m going again, applying all those lessons I’ve scrabbled together however reluctantly, recovering my sanity.

Next week I leave for my long shakedown/trail leg building hike (500+ miles on the AT from Grayson Highlands to Harper’s Ferry) followed by 500+ miles on the PCT and the TRT.