Date: 2008-09-18
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Miles today: 1175.1

"You know Sarah, you can always tell people you couldn't find a partner and use that for your excuse as to why you didn't go hiking..." (Dad, January 2008)   To my friends: "Hey guys, I have a great idea! I am so gonna hike the Appalachian Trail in March!" This exclamation was followed by those closest to me convulsing on the floor laughing with tears streaming down their faces.   To my friends, after they sobered up from their giggle-fit and who are now freaking out after they realized I was serious about this: "Yes guys, I know I have never gone on a nature walk before much less a 2,000 mile hike and- what? I know that I own 200 pair of heels! That I love make-up and accessories and that I am addicted to $40 moisturizer...What? Who ever said a card carrying conservative can't hug trees and smoke with some hippies??" (May, 2007)   "You don't even know what you are getting yourself into. Hiking is hard Sarah. It's like carrying a seven year-old on your back, up and down mountains, all day." (Emily, 2008)    "You shouldn't do this. Republicans don't do things like this. Are you okay? I'm just not sure, Sarah...Just don't come home a Liberal." (My extremely conservative co-hort)    Moments after deciding to hike this crazy hike:   "Mom, I am gonna hike the Appalachian Trail..."    "Uh, ok. Where is it?"   "I don't really know, I think it is somewhere in Europe."   From conception, my hike has been attacked by nay-sayers who couldn't see past my inexperience, my impetuous nature, and my totally crazy idea to hike for many miles for an undefined amount of time. My hike seemingly came out of nowhere. One day I was fighting with my parents about enlisting and the next I was trying to find leverage with which to convince my parents to support my "hike," if you could even call it that in the very beginning.    I read a 250 word article in a book called, "Taking Time Off." It is a collection of stories from college students who took time out of their education to do something else. The first essay I read was about fishing in Alaska; the second was about building houses for natural disaster victims. The first article sounded like too much hard work to be fun. The second was too philanthropic. After 19 years of doing foster care in my own home I figure I have the right to not go out of my way to be charitable, I have already paid my dues to society. I was looking for something I could do for myself that was just "chill." I read a third article and that was as far as I needed to go. It was written by someone who hiked the AT with his dog for three months over the summer between his freshman and sophomore year of college. About five seconds after finishing that story I decided, "This is what I am going to do!"    It's funny how 250 words and a split second, uneducated, impetuous decision would change my life.    In general, I go with the flow but in this my mind was made up. Of course I was riddled with self-doubt but despite everyone around me I stayed true to my vision. I couldn't see the light at the end of the tunnel, and even to this day I still have no idea why I was bound and determined, despite my own and everybody else's good sense, to gallivant off into the woods. I bought gear and shopped like nobody's business. For the first time in my life I stepped away from the Macy¢s shoe department in favor of an outdoor gear store. Not only that, I stayed for hours. Looking back I suppose I was the a-typical hiker.    I didn¢t really care about reading about hiking or going hiking or talking about hiking. I just wasn¢t interested in anything beyond my own hike. I did very little research as to what I was going to embark upon, partly because I didn't want to be discouraged by statistics and tragedies, and partly because I didn't want to spoil any surprises. When I got out of our Suburban to say my final, "Goodbye's," to my parents and when I saw that first blaze I could count on my fingers all of the things that I knew about the trail:   1. It is 2,175 Miles in length   2. It runs from Georgia to Maine   3. Most people don't finish   4. The trail is marked by white paint marks (which I later learned were blazes)         5. Bill Bryson hiked the trail   6. I am totally crazy, what the hell am I doing?!   And fact number six was the thought running through my head as I got to the Springer parking lot after summiting my very first mountain and was sad to see my parents weren't waiting to take me home. I already hurt enough to give up without a fight but my pride forced me to stay in the game.   This trip was the most exhilarating / torturous / boring/ fun / painful / sweaty / dirty / smelly / hard / challenging / rewarding/ tiresome thing I have ever done. To be straight-forward, you could choose any adjective in the English language and it would perfectly describe some aspect of the trail experience. When I finished the trail I was positive that I would never want to see another tree again and while that is not the case anymore, I still gag when I see a Ramen Noodle in any form. There was mud and rain and fights and cattiness and supreme letdowns but in the end I miss the joy it brought me. Hiking the trail, despite all the bumps and bruises that came along with it, filled me up with happiness. I can't say I had fun but I can say that despite everything I enjoyed myself. It sounds clich© but my crazy idea taught me fundamental life lessons. Before I left it seemed like every lesson I learned brought with it heart wrenching pain and mental complexes that held me back, for the first time in my life I realize that life lessons are not always so hard to swallow. The things I learned on the trail which were positive were made that much sweeter by every other fucked up thing I went through to get to this breaking point where I had to escape to the woods and walk.    It is okay to trust people because most people are good. With every person who waltzed into my life out there I found an opportunity to see the good in them. At first it had to be shoved down my cynical throat with obvious displays of generosity and kindness, but after Fall and Hercules and Bob and Liz Clemens took me in and took care of me I saw what I had been meant to see. Not everyone is bad-mannered, hostile, mean and untrustworthy; while you can't trust everyone, it's okay to see and trust the kindness you find in others. The impact these people had on my life, the people who gave us rides, took us in, brought us to the doctor, acted as my doctor, or fried us egg sandwiches on the edge of the road, is dramatic and they will have an everlasting influence on how I live my life and how I treat and see others.   What doesn't kill you really does make you stronger. There were a few times in that first month where I called my parents and begged them to come get me. Hiking hurt, it was hard and it was NOT "chill" like I had previously suspected (I really don't know what I was thinking when I thought this idea would be the easier alternative to fishing on a boat.) Not only that but it just didn't feel right. I felt out of place and alone despite my fantastic hiking partners. Through aching knees, numb toes, shin splints, Achilles tendonitis, numb hips and legs, a hurt back, a sprained ankle and a nasty puss dripping staph infection I made it. If there was a time on the trail when I wasn't hurting I was taking preventive measures to treat an oncoming ailment. There are two days on my whole trip that I remember being pain-free. I also remember that on one of those days, despite the fact that I was feeling fine and that my sprained ankle was healing well and that I had been in a great mood all day, I got a hang nail. That was the last straw on this camel's back. I sat on the edge of the trail and started sobbing. My hiking partner looked at me like I was crazy and even told me so. Sure, I had survived much worse than this without a breakdown and a hang nail seems like a little thing, but right then, it was the end of my life. I may as well have broken my back that's how upset I was. In the end my hiking partner told me to get over it and we hiked our longest day yet. Due to my efforts on this trail my idea of "hard work" is irrevocably changed and my threshold for pain is unbelievable. I swear, after this experience I could probably run a marathon with a broken knee and a fractured foot without feeling more than a twinge.   Don't carry any unnecessary baggage along for the ride. There was a couple I met out on the trail who were out there because they read a book that had a metaphor about backpacking being your life and the things that you put into your backpack. They hiked because they felt like there was no better way to reassess their life than by taking the metaphor to the hilt. I don't know if they finished, but in the end, who cares? I don't think finishing is the most important part of the trail, in fact, Katahdyn was anti-climatic and a bit of a disappointment. Anyway, back to my life lesson. The couple came out on the trail to reevaluate what they needed to fill their backpacks with and what they should discard. I sincerely hope they realized their goals because the purpose of their hike gave me a chance to reassess the things that were weighing me down and holding me back. My years in gymnastics were unnecessary baggage. If I could have I would have discarded that a long time ago but it served as my crutch so it was necessary. Bitterness, anger, hate and loneliness came from those years and while I vacillated between wishing to go back and not do gymnastics, and being thankful that I had because the lessons I learned, despite the pain they involved, had their value I find that those feelings are eerily absent from my heart. I can reflect on those experiences and feel nothing. It's absolutely freeing. In the end I am not sure when I got rid of the extra weight bearing down on my shoulders but this experience showed me that sometimes it is necessary to trim the weight off of the items you shove into your pack and to reevaluate the necessity of even bringing something along for the ride.    For the first time in a long time I felt rewarded for my efforts. I don't need a medal to acknowledge what I have done or another person to praise me. Looking back on my day of hiking and realizing how tough I was was the best thing about trail life. Everyday there were goals, accomplishments and challenges, and everyday I took the bar of expectations higher. My life of mediocrity is over. I don't need a trophy from some trumped up league to feel good about my efforts and I don't need to be the best at what I do to find reward. I achieved something great out East, something many people can't do and I faced a lot of demons to get to the state-of-mind I am at right now. After the trail my goals have changed, meaning I have some. I am looking forward to a bright future and I am leaving the past where it belongs. In my pack I choose to take my memories of a great hiking buddy and friend, a life changing experience and my accomplishments and leave behind the negativity which has had a place in my life for so long.    Before the trail I couldn't see the light at the end of the tunnel, I do now.      PS, I will write a couple more talking about what it is like being home. I just wanted to discuss my reflections on the trail first. Thanks to everyone who showed interest in my journey.