“Why won’t it stop raining?”
The people in my life don’t
understand why I am constantly calling everyone’s attention to the weather.
Even now, as I write this, I am acutely aware of the temperature and
precipitation levels – the wetness of the ground, dampness of the air. I can’t
stop myself from linking the weather and the time of day and then envisioning
exactly what I will be doing a week from now.
I’ll be slipping and sliding
down the side of a mountain. My hands will be pruned. My feet will be wet and
blistered.
I’ll be setting up my tent
and there will be mud everywhere. My tent, soaked. Making dinner crouched down
inside the tent.
I’ll be breaking camp,
already wet before I even begin the day’s hike. Stuffing my wet things into my
wet pack to begin a wet, soggy and miserable day of sliding my way along the
AT.
“Seriously, it’s still
raining.”
I leave for this trip in just
4 days and I am equal parts excited and sickened. My friends have witnessed my
build-up and are eager to wish me well, and I accept their wishes with a wave of
nausea that is nearly unbearable. The rational side of my brain knows that I
have the opportunity of a lifetime and I am so prepared for it. The emotional
side says I am about to walk out of my life for a month and face the harsh
reality of it all going on without me, almost completely unaware of my journey
a world away.
I had tears running down my
cheeks tonight as I tucked my girls into their beds for the last time. They
will be with their dad until the day I leave. I won’t be able to think about
them over the month on the trail. I know it sounds terrible, but I won’t look
at photos of them or think about what they are doing. I can’t. If I did, I
would call it quits in a second because missing a moment with them is worth a
million hikes – but I also know I need to be this person for them, and I can’t
be this person if I don’t push myself toward this goal.
I had a long talk with my
oldest tonight. She is turning 8 and is ridiculously aware. She has taken the
brunt of our divorce, with her need to make peace between her parents. It’s a
seemingly impossible feat and I hate it for her. When I asked her if she was going
to be proud of me if I could do this, she got the biggest smile on her face. She
hugged me and told me she would be proud and that I was going to have so much
fun. I looked at them both, sitting on the counter so we were all eye-to-eye.
They both smiled, completely undaunted by being away from me for a month.
Telling ME I was going to “have so much fun.” This is what I can give to them,
a fearlessness that only comes from knowing that you can’t control everything
but that you can handle anything that comes your way.
So, in a few days I will
begin this adventure…endlessly grateful for the sweet life I leave temporarily
behind and for the sadness that leaving so much "good" brings me. I will walk somewhat hesitantly into the woods this time, knowing that I am not running from
anything but that the people who love me most want and need me to be someone
who tries shit like this.
