Date: 2006-04-12
To: The Weight of Disappointment
Miles today: 0.0

My stubbornness took me about 80 miles further up the trail. Painstakingly I trudged through Maryland and part of Pennsylvania. These were easy miles compared to the relentless PUDS (pointless ups and downs) of the earlier trail. My feet however, took no notice of the more mild terrain. They hurt as much as ever and I was often reduced to limping a couple miles into the day. I was forced to take breaks often ¢ removing my shoes to try and massage the tender and painful ligaments in my arches and heels. I had to carefully choose each footing so as not to step on a pointy rock or an errant stick. One day as I tried to hide my tears at lunch Souleman took my throbbing tender foot in his hands and massaged it as he asked if I was having fun. ¢What?¢ Of course I was having fun. I had dreamed about this trip for years. ¢I¢ve wanted to do this forever.¢ ¢I know. But are you having fun?¢ he countered.¢I love being outside. I¢ve always wanted to walk the AT ¢¦ ¢ I skirted the question again.¢Well, all I know is that you are out here to have fun. And if you aren¢t having fun then you shouldn¢t be here anymore. It¢s not just about Maine. Maine will be there. It¢s about enjoying getting there. It¢s about having fun.¢ His words were direct and serious but not harsh.The next couple of days the terrain rolled gently up and down. Miles that should have ticked off quickly at this point in our hike were laborious and painful. I didn¢t complain much, but the barely contained tears and silence said enough. We arrived at Pine Grove Furnace State Park, a place we had been dreaming of since Springer, and settled in to wait for the ice-cream truck. For those of you unaware, this park is the location of the infamous ice-cream challenge in which a hiker attempts to eat a half gallon of ice-cream in half an hour (at the unofficial halfway point). We had been strategizing for months ¢ What flavor? Do you eat it hard or let it melt? Do you wash it down with a drink? Our appetites were voracious and we felt prepared. We were the first hikers there that morning (8AM) anxiously awaiting the ice-cream truck. Somewhere in the afternoon our hunger betrayed us and we gave in and begrudgingly ate cheeseburgers (thus making for less room for the ice-cream in our stomachs). There were at least a dozen hikers lounging around on picnic tables waiting by the time the ice-cream finally arrived. The time of decision arrived and Souleman chose Fudge Swirl and I (foolishly) chose Chocolate Peanut Butter Swirl.   We attacked that ice-cream with a vengeance. Our titanium sporks shoveled scoop after scoop into our rapidly freezing mouths. I don¢t even remember chewing. Just an unending pattern of scoop, swallow, scoop, swallow.   Souleman finished his in a daunting 22 minutes and waved his empty box in the air. With eight minutes to go I was doubtful my stomach could hold anymore lactose infused goodness. Already I was hearing unprecedented gurgling and rumblings from within. I continued scooping the now soupy mess into my mouth and forcing it down. Souleman, holding his ¢ice-cream challenge¢ trophy was turning green beside me. I started decorating my face with the ice-cream in the hopes of diminishing the amount I had to swallow. I put a dollop on my nose, streaks on my cheeks, a glob on my chin ¢¦ and finally, realizing it had been 30 minutes, I stopped trying to distract myself from the inevitable. I strode purposefully to the trashcan and threw away my box of ice-cream with 1/8 of the ice-cream still inside. I could feel the tears threatening behind my eyelids.   Logically I knew this was only ice-cream ¢ so what? But I couldn¢t stop the burning tears. Souleman tried to console me, telling me that proportionally I had eaten at least as much as he had. But I would have none of it. I walked my ice-cream smeared self across the street, laid down in the grass and cried all the tears I had held back for the last 1100 miles. I cried for the times my feet hurt all night, for the times I couldn¢t stand up alone, for the times I crawled to the bathroom. I was a sticky, tearful mess. Ants crawled all over me enjoying the sweat and ice-cream painting my skin and blades of grass stuck to my face and arms.Souleman crossed the street and sat next to me. He pulled the grass off my face and kissed my nose which was coated with a generous portion of dried ice-cream. ¢I can¢t do it¢ I lamented, between sobs (you know, the kind that break your words up like inconveniently timed hiccups). ¢We can try again another day¢ he suggested. But we both knew this was about more than ice-cream. I thought I could be brave, I thought I could push on. I thought I wouldn¢t become one of those drop-out statistics. My body and my brain were at a stalemate ¢ each taunting the other to make the final move. Souleman reminded me that sometimes being brave means making a decision you don¢t like. And just like that, I knew that I was done. I could make it to Maine, but I wouldn¢t be having fun. And, as a really intelligent hiker once told me, that is what it is all about. I started to tell him how I¢d send him packages and meet him along the trail but he stopped me quickly ¢ first with a word, ¢no¢ and then by emphatically shaking his head while I sputtered through sob studded sentences about how much fun he would have. ¢No,¢ he repeated quietly. ¢This is our hike. We started this and someday we will finish - together. Maine will still be there.¢ Of course, I teared up again, and reminded him earnestly that Maine had been there long before me and he couldn¢t give up on a dream because of some girl. He finally put a finger to my quivering lip silencing my protests and said ¢You¢re not some girl. I¢m going to marry you.¢ And somehow that fact, never before spoken, explained it all.We walked away from the park, hand-in-hand, without saying goodbye to anyone. Admitting defeat to all the other hikers who were pushing on toward Katahdin would hurt too much¢¦ or maybe it would have felt too real ¢¦ like we couldn¢t change our minds. We walked away from the trail shouldering the weight of disappointment and broken dreams -- our packs had never felt heavier. Squeezing each other¢s hands we stood by the side of the road with tears rolling down our cheeks and stuck out our thumbs.