Thrown on the trail. Again. – The walk

It was late June at Shennies when E issued his ultimatum: «Either you come home or we’re done.»

I sat by the stream, filtering my water and begging him to reconsider, reminding him that we were the love of each other’s lives. But I knew my answer and so did he.

I was following the trail.

I stumbled from the creek to the nearby shelter, where many of my friends were sitting to escape the heat. They watched as I threw my backpack on the floor, took off my clothes, and soaked myself in the shower until I woke up shivering.

I’m not telling you this because I’m trying to compare. I tell you this because I am trying to learn.

No fires. Strong knees. Please make all this worth it.

I spent the last three months of my walk thinking about the decision I had made at one point. E wasn’t my damn soulmate. If he was, he probably would have liked to walk. At the same time, maybe this was a sign. Maybe long-term relationships just weren’t possible if I continued to make trails. I didn’t want to have to choose between love and the trail, I wanted both. But maybe it wasn’t fair to ask that. Maybe he didn’t deserve to have both.

Back in Austin and off the road for six months, I was determined to make trash. If the trail was going to be my life, then the trail was going to be my life. Screw stability, just live one week at a time.

And then I met you.

Well, no, that’s not quite right. Then I was homeless for three months. Then I went on a lot of dates and tried to go back to being a prostitute and I felt exhausted. Then I fell in love with Austin again. Then I met you and it felt like everything fit together perfectly, except for the fact that I was leaving. Then I got going and met all these people who were living a perfect lifestyle, on the track for six months every year, and I thought, I don’t want to end up like this. So I missed you so much, so much that the highlight of my day was being able to talk to you and not having cell service seemed like an emergency. Then I realized that in many ways you were improving my walk, that through our conversations I was growing, that I was stopping to look at cacti because of you, and that you were making me notice things that I had never noticed on my own.

No fires. Strong knees. Please make all this worth it.

It was the perfect day of hiking. Breakfast in bed, towering pine trees, views of a snowy mountain. I walked quickly and calmly, feeling good in body and mind. I stopped to rest in the shade to call you and it was as if everything was normal. We laughed at the bugs and I could feel how focused you were. It made me feel so good to hear your smile.

When you told me you needed to take a step back, I thought: Of course. When you said you couldn’t feel that much for someone so far away, I thought: That’s completely fair. When you told me that you felt open to connection, that our time together had been a catalyst, that you wanted to be able to explore, I thought: Who would want to associate with someone who doesn’t even exist? I thought, Please no, I’ll do anything.

Please no, I’ll do anything.

I walked even faster for the rest of the day, not stopping for more than a moment until sunset. It was such a beautiful day that even if I had closed my eyes and only had my nose, my ears, and my feet to tell me, I would still know I was in heaven. I alternated between total happiness and sobbing. It’s the easiest 24 mile day I’ve ever had.

I camped alone in the shelter of a few desert trees, choking on my oats and taking time to stretch my hips. I thought and thought and thought about what kind of girl I want to be, what kind of life I want to live. So I started writing:

I, 18 years old, would go home tomorrow. 27 year old me would hold up both middle fingers and deal with the consequences later. I don’t want to repeat past mistakes. I want to trust that the universe is not going to ruin me. I want to believe that I can have both. And I sure don’t want to ruin my life on a path that I don’t even finish..

There has to be some other solution here. There has to be.

No fires, strong knees, please make this all worth it.

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