Date: 2009-03-23
To: Post Trail Sress Disorder
Miles today: 0.0

So. It¢s officially March, 2009. (Well, I started writing this on March 1 but now it¢s almost April but we¢ll just go with it.) Which means it¢s officially the season in which hopeful thru-hikers set off from Springer Mountain for the journey of a lifetime. Which means I have a small dose of Springer Fever. The main reason for this is because I have been in contact with several hikers setting off this year, three of whom are now on the trail ¢ Storm, Rocket, and Wendy. It has been so nice being in touch with some of the class of 2009 and getting to talk about the trail. And it has served as a huge reminder throughout the past year of the many connections the AT has created and continues to create between virtual strangers ¢ the most amazing part of the experience for me. Last weekend, before Storm departed for Georgia, I got a chance to meet her over the phone for the first time. It was so crazy to hear the anticipation in her voice as she told me she was not nervous at all ¢ that she just wanted to be out there already! That was just how I remember feeling back in 2007 as the days dwindled down to my hike. I am so excited for her and for the rest of this year¢s class. Though I¢m not sure I have it in me to be out there for another seven months, I really wish I could be out there for a little while to soak up spring in the Appalachians. Anyway, I wanted to write a note about post-trail re-entry because it is amazing to me how many times I¢ve been asked about this in the past year. When I was planning my hike, I never thought about what would happen afterward (at least I don¢t remember worrying about it) but it seems like more and more people are worrying about being depressed upon returning to civilization or finding it hard to deal again with reality. So¢¦I want to recount my version of re-entry in the event that it might help someone out there. Here¢s an overview: ***October 5, 2007, I summit Katahdin. On the morning of October 6, 2007, I have to say goodbye to the friends I¢ve depended on for the last handful of months. Tears are shed but I am excited to get home, get married, and live happily ever after. Then comes the afternoon of October 6, 2007. My mom gives me a Willow Tree figurine as a gift. The figurine is a small wooden angel with wire wings called ¢Courage¢ and a little tag on the wings says, ¢Courage: bringing a triumphant spirit, inspiration and courage¢. I am completely overcome with emotion thinking about how my hike had less to do with courage and more to do with the countless number of strangers that helped me along the way. I realize, in that instant, the biggest lesson I learned from the trail ¢ people are amazing; you just need to give them the chance. A few months go by and I am busied with planning my wedding, moving, unpacking, getting married, taking a honeymoon, and looking for a job. All is well and I¢m pretty comfortable back in the real world. In early 2008, I start my new job in The Cube (as Certain and I grudgingly refer to the real world of working in a cubicle). I begin to lose patience for the ¢corporate¢ world and the self-importance displayed around me. I have no tolerance for sitting at a desk all day when I am caught up with my work just to say I am there. I grow bitter at the little hoops people make you jump through in the real world just because they can. I wonder what happened to the good people who offer a helping hand even when they don¢t even know you. What happened to the freedom I had? I had a tough time facing the fact that I could no longer be the keeper of my own time and that every day there was more and more space between me and my trail experience. It made me very sad. I had what TalkerMan dubbed "Post Trail Stress Disorder". So I was sad for a while. And then I was very sad. I worried I would never again find the kind of people I found along the trail and that the memory of these people would fade¢¦and I would forget to remember. And then I realized that I had to, again, find something I liked doing. So, I changed jobs and, at the same time, am on my way to my next dream. And I realized that I would never forget to remember. I changed my focus. Rather than missing the feeling of accomplishing one goal, I decided to move on to the next. This helped immensely. The research I used to do about the trail, I now do about starting my own photography business. Sure, it was hard to come back to The Cube and, really, I had no other choice. Or so I thought. And that¢s because the trail had led me down a different path ¢ I just needed to trust that I could follow it. This new goal has helped in many ways. I still miss the trail and the wonderful world that it carries on it¢s shoulders. But my sadness about it being over has turned mostly into appreciation for the opportunity. And for the most part, I can deal with that as long as I remain connected somehow to that part of my life. So, many wonderful wishes to the Class of 2009 ¢ and to Wendy, Storm, and Rocket, thank you for letting me share in a small piece of your journeys. Happy trails!