Counting the days – The Trek

Yo I officially have less than a month left before I set foot on the Appalachian Trail. As the days get closer, everything seems more surreal. There are less than four weeks of work left, and just three days later, I will begin my walk and suddenly it really hits me.

When I started writing this, I had exactly 27 days left.

That day, I worked from home and took a freezing 15-degree walk during my lunch break. Lihat juga hgtgdfgdtr16. As I walked, the thought kept running through my head: In a month, I’ll be carrying everything I need on my back, moving through my first day of hiking ten miles. Later that night, the thought struck me again: Exactly this day next month, I will spend my first night on the road.

I’m excited. The nerves have arrived. And the tears? It is increasingly difficult to contain them.

My brain has been racing and it’s not easy for me to fall asleep. I think it’s all the imagination: life on the road, the miles ahead, the moments I haven’t reached yet. I’ve allowed myself to relax a little more and stay in bed longer than usual. Honestly, it helps that it’s been freezing in Vermont lately; Otherwise, I would feel guilty for not going out as much as I wanted to.

I’m grateful that I made a plan with my manager to focus solely on design these past few weeks. It’s fueling my creativity and helping time move a little faster.

Living in the middle

More conversations about my walking arise every day, whether at the office, at home with my fiancé, or with friends. Questions constantly arise:

What equipment do you bring?

Are you ready?

Have you been hiking and training this winter?

What is your plan?

Are you sending out replenishment boxes?

With each question, everything seems a little more real. Saying the answers out loud makes it real. The countdown is no longer abstract. It’s happening.

I live in this strange in-between space, I’m still fully here in my everyday life, but I’m already mentally getting on the path.

Tie up loose ends

The last pieces of equipment have been purchased. Everything that can be done is done. Now it’s just a matter of taking care of the practical details: scheduling car maintenance, setting up automatic payments, writing a check to work to cover my benefits during my leave, and making sure life keeps running while I’m away.

Last week I finished my doctor and dentist appointments. I weigh 142 pounds and can’t help but wonder how much of that I will lose. My teeth are healthy now, but will they still be after months of eating food? I am up to date on vaccinations, as prepared as possible before stepping away from normal life for a while.

Spending time with friends at Wheeler Pond in the NEK of Vermont.

I’m also prioritizing time with friends and my fiancé before I leave. I wish my family lived closer, but I’m grateful for the time we shared during the holidays.

And then there is the silent preparation. Refreshing my memory on how to hang a bear bag. Practicing a correct PCT drop. Relearning how to pitch the tent I haven’t pitched on my own in five years, making sure I can do it with confidence again.

I will go for a walk or even just a walk in the woods when my body can tolerate the frigid temperatures. Organizing, researching and preparing as best I can.

Part of this is logistical. Part of it is physical. A lot of this is mental.

Planning for Georgia

It’s amazing how close I am to starting. When the day finally comes, when I fly to Georgia and stand before the arch of Amicalola Falls, I don’t think I’ll be able to hide the tears.

I’ve planned for all of Georgia, although everyone says plans change the moment you set foot on the road. Still, my goal is to tour the first state in about eight days, maybe sooner. I’ll carry food for a few days at a time and resupply along the way. There are no boxes for now. I don’t have a restricted diet, so I’ll let flexibility be part of the plan.

It feels good to have a strategy, even if I know the road will rewrite it.

Waiting on the threshold

For now there is only the wait.

In less than a month, I am in balance between the life I am walking away from and the one I am about to start. Still here. Not quite there.

Soon I will be under the arch and take the first step north.

And then the wait will end.

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