Nothing broken

“I listen to the wind, to the wind of my soul, where I’ll end up well I think, only God really knows” -Cat Stevens “The Wind”

Sunday Gentle G and I hiked out of Daleville after eating a big breakfast with Kay. Things were going great, I was feeling refreshed after a couple days off and happy to be out in the woods again. My new boots were comfortable, the trail wasn’t too tough, and the rain only came down in sporadic sprinkles which kept me cool. But sixteen miles later and holy crap was I hurting. The ankle pain was climbing up my shin and wrapping under my arch. I could have gutted out the additional two miles to the shelter from where we met Kay beside the Blue Ridge Parkway, but I was feeling pretty bad and stressing out. The guys agreed to go to town since I was hurt, plus town is town. It started raining as we drove away so that made me feel a little better about the decision, but I was still of two minds on the whole thing.

You get a lot of time to think when you’re walking through the woods alone all day. I’ve worked out solutions for most of the world’s problems, for instance. I think about the cyclical nature of history, I think about the mysteries of nature, I’ve processed things in my past (to a degree,) and figured out some options for the future. When I’m in pain though the scope of my thoughts narrows significantly. You hear plenty stories of injuries out here and it can be hard not to wonder if what I’m experiencing is maybe a stress fracture and every mile is making it worse. I don’t want to do permanent damage. Plus, feeling hurt, exhausted, and frustrated by the very thing I’m sacrificing for and giving my all to can put me back in a place where I’m thinking about the Ex. I should have let that situation end sooner than it did, maybe the trail is teaching me how to walk away.

Or maybe the trail is teaching me to seek and accept help when I need it. On Memorial Day I rode out to the trail with Kay and we dropped off G, who’s physically in good shape but struggling mentally with his reasons for doing this crazy thing now that it’s no longer fun. Kay drove me back to Roanoke, where we found a legit New York deli (hooray!) and a walk-in clinic that was open on the holiday. Blood pressure good, temp good, I’ve lost almost 20 pounds but I’m holding steady the last month somewhere between super skinny marathon runner and crack addict. The Doctor poked around at the ankle and said it was most likely ligamentous but we agreed to do an x-ray just to be safe. No breaks, no fractures, sigh of relief. She didn’t try to convince me to stop hiking, which was my main fear. She was familiar with the AT and probably knew the average thru hiker is stubborn and a little crazy. I got prescription strength anti-inflammatories, a few stretches to help with plantar fasciitis, (which is the ligament fatigue that makes me walk like a zombie each morning,) and a suggestion to rest as long as possible and to slow down on the miles per day.

Tuesday morning, drinking mediocre hotel coffee and still not sure if I’m going to do a full thru hike. I came out here knowing statistically there was like an 80% chance I wouldn’t finish. Bill Bryson quit in Gatlinburg and got a book published and a movie deal. His strategy of cherry picking sections is certainly appealing, and that is the way Gentle G seems to be leaning too. Cheryl Strayed did less than half of the PCT and significantly altered the course of her life. Then again, AWOL sprained his ankle and kept cranking out 30s after taking a week off.

I’m strongly considering yellow blazing (driving) up to Shenandoah and aqua blazing there (canoeing down the river, which is an officially recognized alternative to the trail,) which we keep me on the trail but also rest my ankle and add some much needed variety to my days. If I were in better shape I’d be willing to set out from here alone, as much as I’d hate to say goodbye to Kay and Gentle G. I came out here willing to go it alone, and there are a lot of awesome people in the bubble so I’d never be alone for long. But I’m at a point where doing less is ultimately the best way to do more. It’s been becoming an all or nothing proposition in my mind, but maybe there’s a middle way. Or maybe I’m just rationalizing quitting. Once I give up on the thru there’s no going back. Actually, that’s not true. If I make it to Katahdin I can go back and do what I skipped. Life is filled with hard choices. Right now I’m floating in limbo in Roanoke, Virginia, simultaneously at Harvey’s Knob on the Blue Ridge Parkway (743.6). I’m pretty conflicted, can you tell? Still, I’m surprisingly at peace with the whole thing, either way I go. Stay tuned…