Be Careful What You Wish for Because You Only Get So Many Wishes
Pt 1
Once you get off trail and stop hiking for the night, your mental gears grind to a halt. It's disarming. It's the first time you think "what should I be doing?" The answer is almost always shower or laundry. There's a rooster crowing in Franklin NC and it's 7:30 am. I thought they were up earlier than this. I've been the first one out of camp each day. When the sun rises, so do I. People who lay around all morning are wasting the day. Bums, all of em. Just kidding, I still sleep in on trail and my breakfasts take a long time. Hike your own hike (it's a very common saying here).
I told everyone the first few weeks would be full of adjustments, and those would be the difference between the finishing class and hopefuls. I didn't know what that would look like for my hike, but I was wishfully thinking some strap tightness tweaks or maybe a new shoelace scheme. Maybe I had nailed everything else. I did the research, I read the books, I had stretches from Katy Chee, the best pt in the whole cit-ee. I started cold soaking oatmeal in a Talenti jar to save fuel for christ's sake.
My IT band issue in my right knee migrated to the center of the joint and turned scenic descents into painful exercises. It was an early indicator of tendonitis. Tendonitis is the inflammation or irritation of a tendon (tissue connecting muscle to bone), typically caused by repetitive strain, overuse, or sudden injury. It is very bad for non stop hiking. I was heading into town, and besides new shoes, I wanted to sooth my knee with rest and magical hiker wisdom. Something that would restore my joints while still allowing me to pound up and down hills.
Fortunately but to my displeasure, I got a reality check slash gentle parented by a kind, patient, and worst of all knowledgeable staff member at an outdoor outfitter. I loathe being fully explained something I partially understand by someone who assumes I know very little. In order to be respectful and receive the new information, you have to sit there like a whole dummy. I'm not a whole dummy. I'm a part time dummy. I was able to repress my urge to interject and inform him of my rank.
"If you want to be one of the 20% that finishes, you need to do what 20% of people are doing."
Alrighty then.
The next morning I drafted a new stretching routine before that lazy rooster started up. Largely according to Kelten's guidance:
Roll out feet, quads, and calves at beginning and end of the day
Dynamic stretches in the morning, static at the end of the day
Ibuprofen at night
Bring mileage down for a month
RICE at the end of the day
Get a patellar brace at pharmacy
Slow on the down hills
Don't normalize pain
Consistency is key
The possibility of having already blown my chance to complete the trail terrifies me, but I'm committed to managing my joints with joy. I went back to Kelten to run my routine by him. Use the resources at your disposal. There are no dumb questions, only dumb people who stay dumb by not asking more questions.
It's not all rain clouds. My new shoes fit better, provide excellent support, and mercifully came in a stylish colorway. I'm the most flexible I've ever been, and my repaired left meniscus is aceing this test. I'm so proud of my body and I have so much gratitude. I'm not going to let my knee call the shots. I have successfully managed nutrition so far and haven't lost weight yet. I'm capable. This is literally what I want to be doing with my time. I GET to deal with all of this, it's a privilege. The guy who suggested I mutilate my Hokas said don't doubt yourself, and my tattoo certainly doesn't say "Born to raise hell as long as everything immediately goes my way."
Pt 2
Georgia and North Carolina teach you that progress on the trail comes at a price. There are severe inclines and treacherous declines that you won't see again until New Hampshire, and somehow they sneak up on you. I've looked up at the trail ahead and thought surely this must be the peak, but no. These mountains hide behind other mountains. They're like the big brother of a schoolyard bully you stood up to. It's good you did that, but you're still gonna get creamed before recess is through. Hikers and locals alike will warn you about specific climbs, but they're usually wrong. It's wild. The toughest ascents are the ones people don't talk about. Not that it matters much. You gotta do em all. But if you try to grind it out and beat the Appalachian trail, the trail will beat you.
Except some people seem like they're beating the trail. Comparison is the thief of joy, and I've been reminded of my true location on the scale of hiker aptitude. I'm a hobbyist. There are people who started in mid March passing me, young and old, cranking out over 15 miles per day. True back country fiends, fanatics, and creatures. Thank goodness there's no room in my pack for pride or else I'd be screwed. It's heavy and on occasion it sneaks back in. Like a cursed trinket I've tried to ditch a thousand times. The trail is a great teacher and this is a lesson learned through rote memorization.
Some hikers like to know exactly how many feet of elevation gain over a selection of milage, and frequently confirm with Far Out (app for through hiking). I like to get the gist from my tattered guide book that lives in a gallon sized zip loc, and roughly estimate what time I'll reach specific checkpoints. Hike your own hike.
Before the new green leaves arrives in April, you can literally look backwards and see the mountains you've climbed. Last week's dense woods and sore calves fade into blue-hued ridges. Your record in battle. Lamenting the mountains to come is pointless because like I said, you gotta do em all, but it's up to you whether you reach into your quiver for an arrow of curses or warm welcomes.
Also, everyone was on my ass, "you've been cross contaminating your water for weeks." It's like, get a hobby, worry about your own mysterious rashes.
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Progress: About half way through Great Smoky Mountains National Park. Cracked 200 miles yesterday. Joints are responding well to my two week old regimen.
Doug (hoss) and Steve (big country) picked me up when I stuck my thumb out.
Updates on Gear: Currently rocking the La Sportiva prodigio max hiking runners. My water filter seal is operating at 80%. It's slow and leaks a little dirty water before it passes through the filter so I'm still safe. It's teaching me patience. Bag weight with 5 days of food and a liter of water is 33lbs, I'm quite pleased with that. I've reached that point of diminishing returns with gear upgrades, meaning I would need to spend a lot more to get just a little lighter.
Rattling around: Which post trail work non-negotiables might just be negotiable?
From Jess, what are the dogs like? So far, I've met three dogs section hiking or through hiking. Lucy (lab mix), Dalton (big ol border collie), Thor (French Brittany spaniel - pictured sunning), and Honey (Golden that lives at a hiker hostel)
