i've been hiking more lately. three out of the last four days i've managed to get out on a real trail and let my body begin to feel it's way into preparedness. in the process, i've alternated between being excited for the whole crazy thing to start over again, and then wondering if i'm ready for another 5-6 months of walking.
i am. if for no other reason than to put my body and mind to constant use again - to find my limits. i think that's what i like the most about thru-hiking: tomorrow is taken care of. it's a foregone conclusion really. i will hike, drink, eat, feel the sun/rain/snow/wind and move forward towards a goal. a difficult goal that requires all i have to offer. and that's probably why i pushed myself on the AT. i don't often feel what i'm doing needs, or even can handle, all of what i can put into it. it was exhilarating in some way to know that no matter how hard i worked or stretched or struggled, this thing, this trail, was bigger than me and could take it.
no, it was more than that, it was realizing all my extra effort - those times when i pushed myself to what i thought was my physical limit - actually made a difference. i was able to directly affect the outcome, something i believe in theory but don't always get to experience as a tangible process. of course, even in those moments of extreme physical stress, when i thought i was close to my limit, i never actually reached it. i'm certain it exists, but i'm also becoming more certain that my physical limit will come sooner than my mental limit.
i got a glimpse of this some time ago during one of my first hikes. it was the summer of 2002, i think, and i was doing a training hike up dog mountain with a couple of friends. bursting with swagger and confidence, i was pressing hard up the side of the mountain (there are two routes in this well-known loop hike - encouragingly labeled "more difficult" and "most difficult" on the trail sign. i kid you not.) in the blazing sun. i had a pack full of heavy gear and three gallons of water - it was a training hike after all and i wanted the extra weight. turning to one of my friends, in full stride i began to expound on my theory of hiking: "see, i figure i'll just hike the same speed no matter if it's up, down, or flat, and the work will even itself out." such simple logic.
five minutes later i passed out on the trail.
notice i didn't say i got "light-headed", or "weak." i straight-up passed out. as in cartoon-style, flat-on-my-back, lights out. my body said "i don't know what the hell you think you're doing, but i'm shuttin' 'er down." fortunately i had three gallons of water behind me to break my fall. now, understandably, my hiking companions were a little disconcerted by this turn of events, but i quickly revived and sat down in a shady spot for a rest. they wanted to head back down to the car, but i "dog"gedly [insert groan here] insisted on completing the hike. upon gaining the summit, i smiled sheepishly at my friends and said "well at least now i know why they call it dog mountain - it can be a real bitch!"
looking west off dog mountain 4/5/09. i reached the top in much better shape this time.
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