Afterthoughts. I ran into a few people before, at, and after the summit. One man had been on his quest in sections for 16 years!! and summited 10 minutes before me. We were all happy, of course, but none were jumping up and down, carrying on, crying, or anything extreme. There were many comments of the nature, this hasnt sunk in yet. At the time, I thought what a hackneyed, meaningless phrase that is, but you know what? I think its true. Its 3 am, and real life is starting to dawn on me in very tiny pieces. I dont have to get up at any particular time tomorrow and feel guilty that its not early enough. There is nowhere Ill be walking that Ill say to myself, Im sure hell get there long before me. I walked maybe a quarter mile last night to meet the pizza delivery at the campground office, and it felt very very strange without my pack. Sure Ive walked without my pack many times in town and even at camp over the last 7 months, but this was different. My body didnt seem to know how to carry itself. It acted almost as if it already missed the weight. Im sure there will be plenty, plenty more reintroduction-to-society growing pains. Ill try to post them as I ride. Perhaps most important of all, its time to put into words how very much it has meant to me to have all of you following my posts all this time. Some of you I know personally; some Ive met here or there, on the bike or the trail or in town; some I know by one degree or more of separation; some of you have found this blog in some other way and weve not ever met at all. Facebook has some crude diagnostics it shows me for free--perhaps more I could get if I paid for the service--but it has bolstered me unimaginably at times to see, for example, that 87 people have liked my post, or that 1,400 have seen it! 493 of you have liked my page, and kept it liked so that it elbows its way into your notifications every time I write something. Ive kept this in mind and tried not to overdo it--nothing worse than daily posts from some page you only marginally care about that make you roll your eyes with not again. Im not a numbers person by nature, but you couldnt really believe how much it meant on a rough day to go back and see how many of you liked something--a post, a comment, a photo, someone elses comment. Ive been in awe of your written comments, in particular, whether they were simple congratulations, or quips, or relations of your own experiences. The fact that you took the time to write and post it made me feel good. Many made me laugh; all made me smile. Some Ive been able to read in a weird nebula of service where I could read, but not comment or like your comment. Rest assured, Ive read and LIKED Every Single One, whether Ive hit the button or not. When Ive felt disenfranchised out there--which was relatively often in a sea of 20-something-mostly-men--your involvement on my page has given me a sense of community and attachment Im not sure I could have gotten any other way. Ive been strangely puzzled by how many of you use the word amazing in reference to me. This is not fishing for more compliments, I assure you. I just feel it bears note. Im just doing what I do--whatever crazy adventures I can cook up to keep life interesting to me. There is certainly a high degree of Amazing out here, and I dont feel Im it in comparison. People routinely do 20- or 30-mile days. Many have thrown in 40s here or there. Sure, I carried a lot of weight, but those who didnt had a whole different set of suffering circumstances I think I could not have endured. They had only the clothes on their backs, some of them, so after a sweaty or rainy day, they had nothing dry to put on either before bed or the next day. Where I was ravenously hungry, they were truly starving and malnourished. I had an electric toothbrush, nail clippers, Qtips, hand lotion, and assorted other hygiene extravagances they did not. How do you go months without clipping your nails?!? Towards the end, I was shocked to learn what some hikers had sent home as unnecessary for the weight; they had no sleeping bags or bug nets or long-sleeved shirts or stoves. Again, a whole different set of suffering I was unwilling to endure. I heard of one poor girl who suffered in turn from giardia, Lyme disease, Noro virus, and bed bugs from a dirtbag motel all in one hike. Thankfully, I had none of those. I lost weight, but didnt become emaciated like many. It was funny when I felt like I was actually going through a little test to see if I truly was a thru-hiker. Many didnt believe me, because I usually didnt look so dirty or sickly. Plus no one believed my pack. Im clean because I carry enough soap to have a small bath each night, and (with few exceptions for rain-soaked weeks days away from town) I always had a clean dry set of clothes in my bag. I also hiked slowly enough to step carefully over and around the huge mud pits others plowed right through. I saw some of those hikers go with mud-streaked legs right into their sleeping bags at night. Now that is amazing! And theyve finished long ago in 4 or 5 months, some in as few as 100 days. (I was #18 to start, #152 by Harpers Ferry, and #357 when I signed in at the Ranger Station at the base of Katahdin--a whole lot of getting passed went on there.). Maybe if I only had to do this for 100 days, I too could have lived on Snickers bars and beef jerky ... naaah, couldnt happen.
Posted on: Thu, 04 Sep 2014 17:02:20 +0000
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