Date: 2014-03-03
To: The Dream
Miles today: 0.0

The seed for this adventure was likely planted when I was two and living in Southern California. I was so active my mom would put me in the enclosed back yard with the dog to burn off excess energy. One day, deciding to take an excursion, I scaled the chain link fence and walked two miles down a busy road to a drug store, where I grabbed packs of gum for me, my older brother Tom, and his friend. I distinctly remember the clerk asking if I needed help and me declining with a shake of the head. (According to my parents, I was an early walker but late talker.) Half way home, I was met by a police car with my hysterical mother in the passenger seat. Much to my chagrin, she later drove me back to the store and made me return the booty.Fast forward fifteen years, to the day after high school graduation. Now living near Boston, I set off by bicycle with three friends to dip our tires in the Atlantic Ocean. Seven weeks later, near the end of our cross-country trip, we repeated the ritual in the Pacific, just south of the Oregon border. I¢m well aware of the hardships involved in hiking the Appalachian Trail: walking up and down mountains 10 hours a day; slogging through the rain along a muddy, rocky trail; being tormented by mosquitos in the scorching heat of summer; sleeping in a tent or crowded shelter with other grungy, snoring hikers you barely know; wearing the same disgusting clothes for weeks on end; subsisting on mac n¢ cheese, peanut butter, and oatmeal; leaving a job and depleting my savings a decade before retirement; and being away from home, family, and friends for half a year.But I fully expect the rewards to make the suffering worthwhile: enjoying views from treeless ¢balds¢ in the southern states; making lasting friendships with fellow adventurers I meet along the way; discovering new sights around every bend in the trail, stripping off pack and boots at the end of each day; and, if I make it, having my picture taken next to the famous sign on top of Mount Katahdin in Maine. In considering an AT hike, one must decide whether to start in Georgia and travel north, thus becoming a NOBO, or head in the opposite direction from Maine. While NOBOs typically leave in March or April and ¢walk with spring,¢ SOBOs must wait until early summer for the snows to clear in the northern states before beginning the race with winter south. I decided to go north for several reasons. First, the vast majority of thru-hikers travel in that direction, and one of the appeals of this trip is the camaraderie in sharing the experience with like-minded adventurers. Also, leaving in early spring ensures maximum daylight, critical when spending so much time outdoors. Finally, finishing well above tree line on Katahdin provides, in my mind, the proper climax to such a journey.Will I be one of the survivors: the 25% who start on Springer Mountain in Georgia and reach Katahdin, 2180 miles to the north, in late summer? Or will injury, an emergency at home, exhaustion, or despair over the hardships of trail life end my quest early? I can¢t know for sure, but I can say with confidence that I¢ll be transformed by this adventure!