Date: 2012-03-22
From: Ward's Fortress of Solitude - Day 2

To: Little Laurel Shelter
Miles today: 19.6
Weather: few clouds

7:30 this morning saw Jonathan and I eating manly breakfasts at the Smokey Mt. Diner. Great service and delicious food. You should go there if you get the chance,  future hikers. You will not be disappointed. I am back on the trail this morning after rolling in to Hot Springs on the 19th, spending 2 zeros with Mr. Ward eating, playing music, enjoying modest amounts of quality bourbon, checking out Ashville and Marshall, and overall having a bro time of it. Weird. I almost felt guilty taking days off.  His place has been a sanctuary for me.  A place of recuperation for the body and restfulness for the mind.  I am so grateful to have a friend like Jonathan.  Anyway, I'm back. This morning was very strange and eye-opening for me. I couldn't really explain it, but I was experiencing a bad case of unease. There were butterflies in my stomach, I was anxious, nervous, and agitated. I didn't know why.  The morning was sunny and mild, the trail started as a nice level stroll along the French Broad River, my feet felt pretty good, my pack was lighter, and I was moving North. It seemed like all should be good.  But  it wasn't. So,  I continued on up some hills and down some slopes. About 5 miles (around 2 hrs) into the hike, I realized that I had tears in my eyes. Not the kind caused by dust and leaves, nor the romantic sort resulting from being immersed in the beauty of the natural world, but real ones - emotional ones. I stopped, dropped my pack, closed my eyes, and tried to figure it out. It didn't take long. I was upset about a phone call I had with my two littlest boys last night.  You see, Ethan, who is 10, called to let me know he tested for and was awarded his yellow stripes in Tae Kwon Do. I was so proud. So was he.  He also went on to inform me that his class nearly won the school's "Iditaread" competition. Beyond that, he said that he wanted to get some trail running shoes, so he could go out and run near our house. Then I talked to Ben. His birthday is March 29. He told me he wanted to go out to dinner for it. I won't be there for it. Then we chatted about school, friends and such. It turns out that I was dealing with intense feelings of guilt and self-loathing.  And with that I learned that the mental strife we encounter and must endure on the trail is visceral and powerful.  I had no idea.  I have a loving family that relies on me, looks to me for validation and affirmation of the things they achieve and which make them proud. And I am nowhere near them.  Given that, how can I look at this adventure I am on as anything other than an exercise in narcissism and self-indulgence. I'm not sure I can. It seems selfish to me. Shouldn't I be with my family? What am I doing out here?  What am I trying to prove?  This isn't a military deployment which I was ordered to do. I chose this using my own volition. This episode isn't going to take me off the trail. But, I can tell you that it showed me a chink in my armor. I'm still sorting out how to "give myself permission" to do this, even though I already have,  intellectually.  But when you have your young son ask when you are going to come home because he wants to go running with you, and you say, "Maybe about 4 months," and he says, "That's a long time." The only appropriate response is, "Yes. I know."  Then you ask yourself why. I don't want to be part of a Harry Chapin song.