It’s getting real! – The walk

This adventure begins in less than a month. I’ll be driving from New Hampshire to Georgia with my husband, Will, and my hiking partner, Phoebe. My grandfather and my mother will be in another car. All three will join us for the first two weeks. We will park one car at Fontana Dam and another at Springer. We’ll start together at Springer, walk for a while and then part ways at Fontana Dam, dry our tears, reconsider everything, just kidding, or maybe not, that could happen! Anyway, we will continue heading home or north. I’d rather think about it as I walk home!

It seems like just yesterday that I texted Phoebe asking if she wanted to hike the Appalachian Trail with me. It seemed like we had all the time in the world. However, every blink seems to make a week slip away from us. She lives two hours away, but when we make time in the midst of our busy lives, we check out the gear and talk about the hike. We’ve even convinced our friend Ava to join us for part of the tour. Fingers crossed it works!

About a month ago, I was overcome with uncomfortable feelings. The realization that this trip was coming sent my mind into a panic. I became painfully negative about myself, wondering why I was doing this and doubting if I could really pull it off. All of my reasons for wanting to do this were covered by a sinister and very real fear of quitting; It’s ridiculous, I know, to be too afraid to quit before even starting! But, as I read other people’s stories, I discovered that I was not alone with these feelings.

Instead of repressing those emotions or masking them with false positivity, I sat with them, trying to understand what they really meant.

I recognized that I was comparing my current self and this trip to a past experience. In high school, I studied abroad in France for what was supposed to be ten months, but I returned after five, for various reasons. That was a difficult chapter and I felt like a failure. However, I don’t regret returning home because a lot of things came out of that experience.

For a long time I saw my stay in France as a personal failure, a chapter that seemed to show that I could not handle difficult situations. But lately I’ve been revisiting those old feelings of guilt and disappointment with a kinder perspective. Both journeys are daunting in their own way, but they are not the same. I don’t want that past experience to define me. Instead, I am determined to use what I learned to move forward. I now know that I am more self-aware, more resilient, and better prepared for what lies ahead.

Initially, I wanted to do this hike just to prove to myself that I could, to prove that I am capable of doing difficult things, unlike before. But I’ve realized that that’s not the energy I want to bring to this journey. If I only see difficult times as tests of my worth, each setback will feel overwhelming, rather than a normal part of the adventure.

I recently came across a story that shocked me. Someone wrote about their struggle with an eating disorder and described how the pressure to love themselves created a constant feeling of failure. Over time, they realized that acceptance didn’t require relentless self-love: they could simply allow themselves to exist as they are. This idea of ​​body neutrality resonated with me: our bodies are here to keep us moving, not just to look a certain way. That perspective has also shaped my thinking about this hike. I don’t have to be infinitely positive or prove anything; I just have to show up and move on.

Getting to Katahdin is the goal, but it doesn’t have to be the measure of success. The truth is that I cannot predict what awaits me; Maybe I will make it, maybe I won’t, and that is a difficult reality to accept. It’s not about doubting myself (I do enough of that); It’s about learning to accept what is, rather than getting lost in what could be. That old saying, “focus on the journey, not the destination,” rings especially true for a hike with as many twists and turns as this one. I want to be present in every moment, let the experience unfold day by day. In the end, what matters most is the journey itself.

I’ve never been one to feel the same way for a long time. My mood changes, my feelings go up and down. I know this hike will present challenges that I cannot predict. While I have trained my body and watched it adapt, mental preparation is different: there is no way to truly rehearse for the unknown. The best thing I can do is accept that I won’t always feel prepared, and that’s okay. Flexibility and adaptability will matter much more than perfection.

Right now, I’m enjoying every cozy moment, grateful for everything I have. I already know what I’ll miss most when things get tough: looking at you, Peach (my cat, who I even miss when I’m at work). I’m trying to commit these things to my memory, just like my mom taught me, so I can turn to them for strength when I need it. I’m lucky: after this adventure, I will return to the same house, the same job and the same relationships. Still, I know how the mind can crave comfort when deprived and how tempting it can be to remind myself that home is just a flight away. But that’s also comforting: If things ever get really tough, I’ll never be out of reach. Home will always be there, just a day away.

And here’s an exciting update: I had LASIK! I’ve wanted it for years and with this hike approaching, it felt like the perfect time. It changes my life and I am very grateful that I did it right before I hit the road. This has brought me great relief and it seems crazy to me that glasses and contact lenses are now a thing of the past.

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