How it feels right before a walk

When it starts to feel real

You know that feeling when emotions quietly build up just beneath the surface, when you realize how close you are to embarking on a journey you’ve dreamed of for so long? The kind where your eyes instantly bulge, you bite your lip, or you turn your mouth to the side, holding your breath because you don’t want to burst into tears, but you know you could easily?

Yes. I’ve been feeling that a lot lately.

It hits me when I think about starting the path. I realize it when I’m standing at a trail junction where the Appalachian Trail crosses, knowing that one day I’ll be there, hiking in that exact spot. I can’t help but wonder if I’ll remember how I feel now when that day comes.

Maybe you look back and think, Wow, I had no idea how hard this was going to be. Or maybe I say it to myself, ‘You were stronger than you ever thought. ‘ Maybe I’m proud of her for daring to pursue this dream and even more grateful that life has given me the opportunity to make it a reality at the right time.

For now, all I know is that I’m here, on the edge, feeling it all.

Fear is not what people think

People ask me if I’m afraid to go alone. They ask about predators. I know they will be out there. I also know that I will meet good and safe people. I know how to be alert and listen when my instinct tells me that something is not right.

But what I fear most is not that.

It’s failing. Get hurt. Fall ill. Lyme disease. Those are the fears that weigh me the most.

I know I will have difficult days, very hard days, but this feels different. Now I tell myself there is no way I am leaving here. I’ve wanted this for too long to give up. The pain and anguish of missing my fiancé, a cozy bed, air conditioning, real food, and long showers will weigh on me.

But that discomfort is temporary. It’s only five or six months.

And then I will return to “normal,” to the routine of surviving in the real world, wondering if I am good enough, creative enough, worthy enough to exist out of the way.

I love the comfort and stability. I love a 9 to 5 job, insurance, a 401k plan, and not living paycheck to paycheck. I know I will suffer from depression after the trip; I’m almost sure of it. Maybe the trail will prompt me to take a long break from hiking. I don’t know what will happen.

Hike Mount Adams from AMC Madison Spring Hut in the White Mountains of New Hampshire.

Why does this keep calling me

People ask me why I want to do this and they always ask me the same question.

Because?

Is it because hiking has become an addiction? A form of therapy? A healer? A creative guide? Yes. All of it. I want to push myself to see what my mind and body are really capable of when stripped down to the basics.

Maybe it’s also about body dysmorphia, losing weight, losing weight, feeling strong in my body again. And maybe it’s also just an excuse to eat pure garbage. I can’t wait for the Pop-Tarts. Honestly, that might be the first thing I get tired of.

On every walk I’ve taken, there have been moments where I think, Okay, I’m done. I’m ready to get off the road. But along with that thought there is another: I want this to continue like this. I want more.

That contradiction is what always stays with me.

Who will I be on the other side?

I wonder who I’ll be when it’s over. Will I want to go back to the path I was on before the trail or will I be drawn to something completely new? Will I come back inspired, ready to be a better designer, ready to finally make the ideas I’ve been pursuing a reality?

Part of me wants to follow these wild trails while I’m young, strong and healthy, rather than waiting for a distant retirement that may never come. Tomorrow is never promised.

All I know now is this: my goal is to finish the trail in one hike. I only know that the path continues to call me and that I need to walk it to understand why.

Laraway Mountain Overlook on the Long Trail

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