Failing the long road – The Trek

W.When I wake up and take a few steps outside the shelter, it is clear that I will not be able to continue walking. Every step downhill sends a stream of pain through my hamstring and around my knee, and I’m worried that blindly moving ahead will lead to an even worse injury.

(In case you missed it, this is how I got injured.)

Reluctantly, I limp to the nearest road junction and stick out my thumb.

Uncertainty in the city

There is a huge level of denial that comes with such an uncertain injury. I tell everyone what’s happening with my legs (strangers at coffee shops, the kind woman who picks me up on the side of the road to go into town, all my friends and family at home) in the hopes that one of them has “the solution.”

When I finally get a good look at my leg, I’m greeted with a less than ideal view. I bet you can guess where I felt the muscle tear.

Actually, if I just press on this point, or take this pill, or do this stretch, everything will magically fix itself and I will come out of here stronger than ever.

It is a difficult truth to accept: the only thing that can help will be rest. I need to return to work on October 13. Fortunately, I’ve been going fast enough to have a few rest days that I can use to rest in Stowe, but now it all comes down to whether my muscle can heal fast enough to allow me to walk 80 miles before October 12. (I’m posting them late; it’s currently early October.)

Shout out to my friend Mary, who’s letting me stay with her while I figure this out! Trail angel of the decade, really!

For the first time on my hiking trip, I have come face to face with the inevitability of eventual failure. He feels like an idiot. To quote the woman’s kid in the cafeteria: «We don’t say that, we say poopy butt!»

To that kid, sorry for saying «ass» in front of you. In fact, failure feels like a poopy butt.

Will it be okay if I quit smoking?

I read my list of things I love about my life that don’t revolve around hiking. Then I reread it. Sometimes.

I remind myself of all the time I’ve spent missing home, missing my partner, missing the cute little ice cream shop minutes from our house, missing indoor plumbing, missing waking up in a bed.

Eating truffle fries and crying in Mary’s car. I felt so silly and pathetic that I had to laugh at this.

I don’t want to go home, but it will be okay if I need to. There will be many joys along that path, even if it doesn’t take me to the Canadian goal.

Supporting my partner

The challenge that I want is walking to Canada with an injured leg, and the challenge I may face is to face this moment with grace and dignity while still supporting my friend who is still on the road. Funnily enough, I think about Mike Posner a lot today.

Mike Posner, singer and songwriter perhaps best known for his 2015 hit “I Took A Pill in Ibiza,” is climbing the CDT this year and documenting it all publicly on his Instagram. Early in his walk, he suffered a leg injury and had to stay out for a few days. With the late start, free time meant certain failure of his plan to hike the trail.

More beautiful moments from (maybe) my last morning on the trail.

Instead of spiraling into bitterness and resentment toward his hiking partner, he actively worked to find satisfaction in supporting his partner and taking on this new, unwanted, and unexpected challenge as a moment of personal growth that cannot be found within the confines of a successfully completed hike.

Seeing him appear again and again before his friend in the midst of his own doubts and pain made me respect him greatly. Anyone who has suffered a loss and had their knee-jerk reaction of “if I can’t have it, no one should!” I’m sure I can empathize with the amount of strength, maturity, and intentionality his response required. In 2015 I would be surprised by the following sentence, but in the coming days I look to Mike Posner as a role model.

(This is the video that turned me into a true Mike Posner fan).

My next steps

I really hope this is not the end of my walk. As the days have passed, I have developed a love for these mountains that has surprised me. More than wanting to get to the border, I don’t want to feel robbed of my last week in the Green Mountains.

Hate Camel’s Hump until I DIE!

However, if this is the end, all I can do is face it head on, cheer on Chicken Legs, cherish the time I had, and look forward to the next one.

Today I listen to The Prophecy by Taylor Swift and it sounds like crying on the side of a busy road in Stowe, Vermont. Maybe it’s a sad cry. Maybe it’s crying because of the enormous gratitude I feel for how lucky I am to have such a wonderful life. Every time I listen to it, it sounds different.

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