Date: 2012-03-14
To: Three years already?!?
Miles today: 0.0

While so many things have happened during the past three years to make me feel farther and farther away from Springer, the memories from my first day on the trail are so vivid that sometimes it feels as though I can just close my eyes and instantaneously find myself climbing a mountain in the cold rain. Few days of my life are as etched into my soul as that day and all the rest that followed when I was completing my thru-hike. I've spent a lot of time wondering what it was about hiking to Maine that made those months some of the happiest ever.   I was away from my family and friends, way out of my comfort zone. The strangers I met in the woods didn't know me from Adam, they didn't know what I liked to do on weekends, where I grew up, that I was married, how I liked my pizza, what I had done with my life up until that point. I was dirty. Not just a little mud smear here and there, but the kind of dirty that stains your skin and fingernails. The kind of dirty you eventually no longer notice. The kind of dirty that will never be washed away. The kind of dirty that made day hikers squirm with discomfort as the stench swirled around and made folks who gave us a ride reach for a can of Febreeze the second they dropped us off only to find that time would be their only ally against the pungence we left behind. I worked all day, every day. I worked so hard at walking that eventually 15 miles up and down mountains sounded like an easy day, a slow day. I worked so hard that I wore out three pairs of boots and the tips of my hiking poles. I worked so hard that I wasted away, became little more than bones, muscle, dirt and hair. I was starving. I constantly checked my dwindling food supply and was always hoping for more than what I found. I ate anything I could get my grubby hands on. I delighted in the magic of coming around a bend to find someone in the middle of the woods with a grill and a hamburger for me - any trouble could be easily forgotten by a kind gesture as simple as someone giving me food. I looked bedraggled, starved, homeless and nearly possessionless anytime I walked out of the woods and into a town. That is, until someone saw my face. Underneth all the dirt and sweat I am sure my eyes were shining and I was smiling. Despite what one might assume at first glance, I was not to be pitied, I was to be envied - during those 5.5 months I felt truly alive. I lived by the sun and my own whims. I had a clear-cut goal and was heading straight for it- any distraction along the way was not considered an obstacle but, rather, was an added bonus to my adventure. I eventually developed faith in myself and what the trail would provide for me, that the world and most of those in it are benevolent. I felt such a sense of community amongst strangers that I began to realize the details of who I am didn't matter as much the understanding and acceptance that comes from a shared goal - pursuing happiness and fulfilling a dream.Every day since I reached out and touched that mighty sign on Katahdin I've tried to recreate those feelings. It's not as simple as it was out on the trail, but I can't expect it to be. There are so many more variables in life off trail, and goals aren't as straight-forward and well-marked. But that's ok. Feeling alive on the trail was the result of a lot of hardwork and sacrifice; while inherent, I had to find it and be brave enough to accept it. I can only hope and pray that the person I grew to be in those woods is still strong enough to keep searching.*********************************************************************************************************Scarlett wanted me to add that she will go on her own adventure this summer as she pursues becoming a big sister.