All the trails I’ve walked before

Siri, play “To All the Girls You’ve Loved Before” by Taylor Swift.

The interesting thing about the Appalachian Trail (AT) is that it is long. One interesting thing about me is that I have been walking in many different places. As I encounter different sections of the AT, I remember the trails I’ve hiked before and who I was when I hiked them.

Water

I was born near the mountains, but I grew up by the beach and my hometown has a state park on the bay. You walk through swamps, forests and sand. When I worked at REI, this was the park that was engraved on my nameplate as my favorite place to walk.

When I moved to Chicago, I scoffed at the idea of ​​a Great Lake. I spent my childhood in the Atlantic Ocean, so how could a lake compare? When I first stood on the shore of Lake Michigan, I understood. I understood how big the water was and how little I was and how little I knew. I spent two years walking and cycling along its coastline, as much as I could.

On the AT there have been rivers, ponds, streams, streams and lakes. I pause at each water feature, admiring its flow, reflection, width or sounds. Any time I can refill my water is also a blessing, especially if I don’t have to carry more than a liter at a time. Water is heavy and the AT, for the most part so far, has been generous with the amount of water it provides. I ride a camel (I drink a lot of water at the water fountain) and bring some water and some nature appreciation along for the ride.

My past walks remind me to admire every source of water, drinkable or not, for its beauty and strength. The Watauga Lake Dam was a particularly beautiful site, with the lake on one side and a canyon on the other. I am small and there are so many wonders to behold.

Rain

When I started the AT, I was sure the rain would be what broke me. Fortunately, I was spared the bad weather for most of the first month and a half. But then it came.

Turns out I’m not made of sugar and walking in wet conditions isn’t that bad. A light drizzle can even be pleasant, as it seems to saturate all the colors of the forest and gives a mystical quality to the environment.

While walking in a drizzle in Tennessee, I remembered a hike in southeastern Germany when I was in my twenties. I traveled alone and had sun the entire trip, until I reached the mountains. There, I was still forging my identity and independence as I walked along the wet trails, the fog obscuring any hope of seeing anything. I felt giddy, excited by a memorable experience, and proud of myself for continuing in unfavorable conditions.

As I reminisced about my time in Germany while on the AT, I connected with that younger, more excited version of myself. The one who didn’t know where she would live, who she would love, or what career she would commit to. I found myself walking with a lighter step, excited, knowing that no weather could break me. Knowing that I could connect with a version of myself that was wilder, more carefree. I haven’t lost the spark. She still lives inside me.

Length

A few years ago, I went on a hike to Poland with some members of my family. We ended up walking for about 8 hours, probably the longest walk I had ever done up to that point.

I remember reaching a summit and exclaiming “at least we don’t have to climb any further!” Turns out, as my aunt ruefully informed me, we still had some way to go. And so I learned the heartbreak of a false summit.

There have been many such summits on the AT, where you probably think you’ll be done climbing soon, but no. There is more to go. There is always more to go.

It turns out that the AT is a series of climbs. Endless ascents and descents. Who knew!

I’m not trying to argue with the trail. I know I have four more months of climbing left. Even at the top of a mountain, I consider it a false summit, since there are 1,000 more peaks until the end of the journey. This mentality allows me peace. It is a form of radical acceptance. I am never disappointed with another peak, as I expect. If there is a flat trail, I consider that a plus.

Boundaries

In recent years, I was a member and then co-director of the Body Liberation Hiking Club: Greater Philadelphia Area. BLHC is a hiking group for everyone. There is no pressure, there is no talk of diets and the group moves at the pace of the slowest participant. I explored the Philadelphia area’s many parks and trails while learning more inclusive strategies.

In the OT, these principles help me accept myself and others. The rhythm doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter how many breaks I take. What I eat or drink compared to others doesn’t matter. We can be in nature in any way that seems right to us. In the AT, I don’t think twice about other people’s progress except to encourage them, and I know that «keeping up» with others will only cause me distress. I am very grateful to the club for building my confidence and allowing me to practice these ideas.

In brief

Previous hikes have not only prepared me physically for the AT, but also emotionally and mentally. I love walking and am incredibly grateful to be here. So I thank all my past selves and all the paths they have been on for bringing me here and keeping me going.

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