"Life sucks and then you die. You go all through life and then you get hit by a fucking bus." Or so says my mom after her heart fluttered picturing herself and Patrick Swayze Dirty Dancing together at a mountain resort in upstate New York in the early 1960s.
While fanning herself, her dream was interrupted by the realization that such a reality may never come to pass due to Mr. Swayze's unfortunate bout with pancreatic cancer. And thus the basis for her pessimistic statement about human existence.
In a way, I think the same thing. We're born, we live, we die. But that's not necessarily a bad thing. I mean it's not good that The Swaze has a life-threatening illness, but you can't say that he didn't lead a good life while he was here. I mean the guy can act, dance, sing (She's Like the Wind still makes this guy's pants fall off at an alarming pace), was a stud in his heyday and world famous. So when the topic of his cancer came up, my mom thought of the "fucking bus," but I didn't see it that way.
My mom is right though in that a bus could just come along and run you over, or a badger could target you in a woodland killing spree, or you feel the need to defy reason and try and beat Jumanji.
Alot of people have asked me if I'm scared or nervous and aside from some anxiety over whether I left something important at home, I'm not really at all. People worry about bears and cougars, and I'll do my best not get eaten but if it's my turn to go, it's my turn. And like The Swaze has Dirty Dancing and Ghost, I'll have the PCT.
But I wouldn't have the PCT without the help and encouragement of my friends and family. I know that my decision wasn't received well initially, but in time everyone in my life came to see how important going on the hike was to me and offered words of encouragement and support right up until I left.
My family really took to Hike4Autism and at this point it feels like they've done more to promote it than I have, so an extra special thanks and an I love you to Madre and Padre, Young Z and the Useless Dean.
I also want to say thanks to Kile Garguilo for driving me to the airport at 4am. He works in the upper reaches of the Comcast Center (Philadelphia's first green skyscraper) with a nice view of City Hall, loves gardening and is a homeowner. Grab this one ladies before he gets away!
It would be infinitely more difficult (not to mention very infrequent) for me to post these stories to my blog without Joe Mohne and Andre Laboy who have agreed to handle the emails I'm writing while out blazing trails.
I could thank many more people specifically but I'd hate to leave someone out, so just know that I appreciate all of the support and help of everyone. It took a lot to get me here and you really eased my path.
Alright Minions, we're in the air and this thing isn't even supposed to be on (at least the FAA's investigation will be short) so syonara and I'll talk to you from the Golden State soon.
Showing posts with label hike preparation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hike preparation. Show all posts
Friday, April 25, 2008
Monday, April 21, 2008
Daily Record Blogging
My local paper the Daily Record is going to be doing a feature on me sometime this week or next and are coming to take some pictures of me fully decked out in my gear tomorrow. Now the world will witness for the first time the beginnings of my trail beard, not to mention the oozing machismo, animal masculinity and my beautiful Irish tenor voice (I guess that one wouldn't really come through in print, but take my word for it).
I'm going to be blogging for them as well, but just to make it easier for any new readers and for myself when I'm writing on the trail, both blogs are just going to have the same content. For now, I reposted my favorite entries from here and any fundraiser-related information.
Here is a link to the blog at DailyRecord.com. One thing that is different - I got to use a picture I took of a trail at the Delaware Water Gap last summer as the icon for my Daily Record blog.
But I guess it's not much of a difference as I can just show you them here. I've been wanting to use them somehow in some sort of thematic way, but I don't know anything about Web design, so this is as close as I'll come to that.
Mr. Snake
Mr. Lake - A group of Russian tourists were absolutely loving Mr. Lake. Also, there was a deer across the way but my camera wouldn't zoom in close enough.
Mr. Garden State
And again...
And again...
I'm going to be blogging for them as well, but just to make it easier for any new readers and for myself when I'm writing on the trail, both blogs are just going to have the same content. For now, I reposted my favorite entries from here and any fundraiser-related information.
Here is a link to the blog at DailyRecord.com. One thing that is different - I got to use a picture I took of a trail at the Delaware Water Gap last summer as the icon for my Daily Record blog.
But I guess it's not much of a difference as I can just show you them here. I've been wanting to use them somehow in some sort of thematic way, but I don't know anything about Web design, so this is as close as I'll come to that.
Mr. Snake
Mr. Lake - A group of Russian tourists were absolutely loving Mr. Lake. Also, there was a deer across the way but my camera wouldn't zoom in close enough.
Mr. Garden State
And again...
And again...Sunday, March 23, 2008
Thanks for the Advice
"Brad, I know that you could physically go out tomorrow and run a marathon. But you'd be dead afterwards. That's what the hike is going to be like. I want you to put 40 pounds on your back and go out and hike 30 miles in a day. You could do it, but you're not going to be able to walk the next day."
I can safely say that after having started my practice hiking that the person who gave me that bit of wisdom is full of shit.
After two weeks of hiking at least once per day (minus the time in Vegas) with anywhere from 15 to 35 pounds on my back, I've come to the conclusion that anyone, regardless of how good or bad of shape they're in, can decide to pick up a bag and go out and hike. It might be a different story if you have a bad back, but that's really the only caveat I can think of.
The key is hiking your own pace. Out of all the advice and tips that I've read, that bit seems to be the most helpful. When you decide to do something that your body isn't ready or willing to do, that's when you get hurt. Hike too fast, you're going to get hurt. Don't rest enough, you're going to get hurt. Don't plan out your food and water breaks, you're going to get hurt. All it takes is listening to your body.
The problem for me is that walking is a slow process. It will get you where you need to go, but it takes forever. Yesterday I hiked just over five miles and it took me 2 1/2 hours. Running, will take you 35 and you can drive that in five, but then again, that's not the point.
Only now am I beginning to realize how antsy I am and that became very clear to me when I went on my first practice hike. I decided to take it easy and go for two miles or so in the morning before work. The whole thing took about 45 minutes and after I hit 20 minutes, I had this overwhelming feeling of "gotta go, gotta get there, gotta go go go go finish now!" And I felt myself walking faster and faster and had to consciously slow down, telling myself to relax two or three times.
That might be the biggest adjustment once I get out to California, having nothing but hiking on my schedule for 5-6 months straight. Whether it is or not, my day always feels filled with tasks to be completed. Gotta update my blog, gotta hike, gotta stretch, gotta go to Shop Rite, gotta get gas, gotta go hang out at someone's house, gotta do this and that and this and that.
They're tiny things that really mean nothing and aren't actually things-to-do that I've put down on a list. But I know they're out there and that at some point they've got to be done, so I begin thinking of all possible things combined into one giant whole of tasks-to-be-completed, I get overwhelmed and my ability to plan starts to shut down.
Once I'm on the trail, the only thing I have to worry about is getting to the next town, going the next 15-20 miles and that's about it. No job, no car, no places to be except heading northbound. There's going to be nothing driving me forward other than attempting to complete the trail. No need to rush, no need to get anything done, no items on a schedule to check off. Wake up, eat, hike, rest and eat, hike, stop for dinner, hike, sleep, repeat.
The other day I was struggling to get my water bottle out of the side pocket of my bag. I don't want to stop, but because the bag is strapped tight to me, I can get my fingertips on it, but can't reach far enough to grab a hold of it.
I'm fighting with it for about a quarter mile, I'm getting angry because I just want to drink some goddamn water but...this...fucking...bag...won't cooperate! So I prop the bag up on top of someone's fence, take it off and rip the water bottle out of the pocket. I sit there and drink for a minute or two, put the bottle back in the pocket, strap up and keep walking.
Then I think to myself, "Why didn't I just do that in the first place?" It was almost as if I was unconsciously listening to that 30 mile mandate, telling myself to keep walking when there was no reason I couldn't stop. There was nothing necessitating that I keep on walking, but I just felt like I had to, that I'd be wasting time if I had to stop and take off my bag.
Which brings me back to the point I started making a few paragraphs ago - you've got to hike your own hike. Once the bag was off, I calmed down, got some energy back from the water, gave my shoulders a break and felt refreshed. So now when I need a break, I take a break. If I want to stop and look around or just listen to the sounds in the woods, I do it. What's stopping me?
So in the unlikely event that you get the 2,650 mile itch, don't listen to the idiot that tells you to try a 30 mile day first to see if you can handle it. Go slow, do what your body tells you it can do, take a break every now and again, and don't curse...at...this...motherfucking...water bottle! It's only there to help.
I can safely say that after having started my practice hiking that the person who gave me that bit of wisdom is full of shit.
After two weeks of hiking at least once per day (minus the time in Vegas) with anywhere from 15 to 35 pounds on my back, I've come to the conclusion that anyone, regardless of how good or bad of shape they're in, can decide to pick up a bag and go out and hike. It might be a different story if you have a bad back, but that's really the only caveat I can think of.
The key is hiking your own pace. Out of all the advice and tips that I've read, that bit seems to be the most helpful. When you decide to do something that your body isn't ready or willing to do, that's when you get hurt. Hike too fast, you're going to get hurt. Don't rest enough, you're going to get hurt. Don't plan out your food and water breaks, you're going to get hurt. All it takes is listening to your body.
The problem for me is that walking is a slow process. It will get you where you need to go, but it takes forever. Yesterday I hiked just over five miles and it took me 2 1/2 hours. Running, will take you 35 and you can drive that in five, but then again, that's not the point.
Only now am I beginning to realize how antsy I am and that became very clear to me when I went on my first practice hike. I decided to take it easy and go for two miles or so in the morning before work. The whole thing took about 45 minutes and after I hit 20 minutes, I had this overwhelming feeling of "gotta go, gotta get there, gotta go go go go finish now!" And I felt myself walking faster and faster and had to consciously slow down, telling myself to relax two or three times.
That might be the biggest adjustment once I get out to California, having nothing but hiking on my schedule for 5-6 months straight. Whether it is or not, my day always feels filled with tasks to be completed. Gotta update my blog, gotta hike, gotta stretch, gotta go to Shop Rite, gotta get gas, gotta go hang out at someone's house, gotta do this and that and this and that.
They're tiny things that really mean nothing and aren't actually things-to-do that I've put down on a list. But I know they're out there and that at some point they've got to be done, so I begin thinking of all possible things combined into one giant whole of tasks-to-be-completed, I get overwhelmed and my ability to plan starts to shut down.
Once I'm on the trail, the only thing I have to worry about is getting to the next town, going the next 15-20 miles and that's about it. No job, no car, no places to be except heading northbound. There's going to be nothing driving me forward other than attempting to complete the trail. No need to rush, no need to get anything done, no items on a schedule to check off. Wake up, eat, hike, rest and eat, hike, stop for dinner, hike, sleep, repeat.
The other day I was struggling to get my water bottle out of the side pocket of my bag. I don't want to stop, but because the bag is strapped tight to me, I can get my fingertips on it, but can't reach far enough to grab a hold of it.
I'm fighting with it for about a quarter mile, I'm getting angry because I just want to drink some goddamn water but...this...fucking...bag...won't cooperate! So I prop the bag up on top of someone's fence, take it off and rip the water bottle out of the pocket. I sit there and drink for a minute or two, put the bottle back in the pocket, strap up and keep walking.
Then I think to myself, "Why didn't I just do that in the first place?" It was almost as if I was unconsciously listening to that 30 mile mandate, telling myself to keep walking when there was no reason I couldn't stop. There was nothing necessitating that I keep on walking, but I just felt like I had to, that I'd be wasting time if I had to stop and take off my bag.
Which brings me back to the point I started making a few paragraphs ago - you've got to hike your own hike. Once the bag was off, I calmed down, got some energy back from the water, gave my shoulders a break and felt refreshed. So now when I need a break, I take a break. If I want to stop and look around or just listen to the sounds in the woods, I do it. What's stopping me?
So in the unlikely event that you get the 2,650 mile itch, don't listen to the idiot that tells you to try a 30 mile day first to see if you can handle it. Go slow, do what your body tells you it can do, take a break every now and again, and don't curse...at...this...motherfucking...water bottle! It's only there to help.
Friday, March 7, 2008
I'm Excited for Old Age
I typed patellar tendonitis into Google to get the official definition and the first result that came up was Jumper's Knee. Well then. Looks like I know how I aggravated it again. Box jumps, you will be the death of me. Jumping actually caused the condition to develop in the first place.
Freshman year of high school during the try-out-five-different-events-so-the-coaches-can-see-if-you're-good-at-anything-else stage of the track season, I decided to do the high jump and ended up being pretty good at it. I cleared 5' 8" and I think I medaled in the county freshman championships. Whatever happened, the future looked bright and I expected to clear 7' by the end of my senior year.
Fast forward to sophomore year and after increasing my personal best by an Olympian two inches, it became quite apparent that there was a direct correlation between the pain in my left knee and the amount of time spent Fosbury Flopping.
I left a visit with the good old physical therapist with a diagnosis of patellar tendonitis and a free pass to stop high jumping which I had come to hate. Of course I ignored the doctor's orders to stretch and do whatever he prescribed for me, but the pain went away because I wasn't jumping which was good enough for me.
La la la la, hoola hooping through life sans knee pain until BAM! I get sidelined during the early Spring track season of my freshman year of college. Four years later after a solid summer of training cross country training, I'm running around in the hills of Northern Maryland and BAM! I'm sidelined for a week and lose two to three weeks worth of fitness. Three years later training for a 2650 mile hike and BAM! wouldn't you know?
I should have known that box jumps wouldn't be any good for me, but when you ignore a doctor's orders on how to best heal your knee 11 years ago, you're not going to suddenly remember what he said when you're drawing up a new workout plan for yourself.
Oh well. (Knock on wood) Looks like I caught it pretty early and my new PT (who I will not ignore) said I should be fine if I lay off the jumping and running, do some stim and massage, and these exercises:
Freshman year of high school during the try-out-five-different-events-so-the-coaches-can-see-if-you're-good-at-anything-else stage of the track season, I decided to do the high jump and ended up being pretty good at it. I cleared 5' 8" and I think I medaled in the county freshman championships. Whatever happened, the future looked bright and I expected to clear 7' by the end of my senior year.
Fast forward to sophomore year and after increasing my personal best by an Olympian two inches, it became quite apparent that there was a direct correlation between the pain in my left knee and the amount of time spent Fosbury Flopping.
I left a visit with the good old physical therapist with a diagnosis of patellar tendonitis and a free pass to stop high jumping which I had come to hate. Of course I ignored the doctor's orders to stretch and do whatever he prescribed for me, but the pain went away because I wasn't jumping which was good enough for me.
La la la la, hoola hooping through life sans knee pain until BAM! I get sidelined during the early Spring track season of my freshman year of college. Four years later after a solid summer of training cross country training, I'm running around in the hills of Northern Maryland and BAM! I'm sidelined for a week and lose two to three weeks worth of fitness. Three years later training for a 2650 mile hike and BAM! wouldn't you know?
I should have known that box jumps wouldn't be any good for me, but when you ignore a doctor's orders on how to best heal your knee 11 years ago, you're not going to suddenly remember what he said when you're drawing up a new workout plan for yourself.
Oh well. (Knock on wood) Looks like I caught it pretty early and my new PT (who I will not ignore) said I should be fine if I lay off the jumping and running, do some stim and massage, and these exercises:
Either way, I'm glad I've been having knee issues since 14. That will make for some fun times at 60.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Who Does That?
Apparently North Face.
I got a hat for the hike to sleep in and for cold weather, so as with all my equipment, I figure I'll give it a little test. I went skiing at Camelback last weekend, so that's as good of a place to go.
The hat was actually a little too good, which is an anomaly for me because I freeze swimming in 70 degree ocean water in the middle of July. I get out and shiver on the towel like an infant.
So I sweated in that thing for about seven or eight hours, and as I don't like to be considered a dirtbag, I decided to wash it when I got home. A regular old hat I think.
"Think again," says North Face.
And if you're having trouble reading that, here you go:
So now I need a new one.
Sons of bitches. Who makes a dry clean only hat?
Anyway, let's do some action shots in the tiny hat:
I got a hat for the hike to sleep in and for cold weather, so as with all my equipment, I figure I'll give it a little test. I went skiing at Camelback last weekend, so that's as good of a place to go.
The hat was actually a little too good, which is an anomaly for me because I freeze swimming in 70 degree ocean water in the middle of July. I get out and shiver on the towel like an infant.
So I sweated in that thing for about seven or eight hours, and as I don't like to be considered a dirtbag, I decided to wash it when I got home. A regular old hat I think.
"Think again," says North Face.
And if you're having trouble reading that, here you go:
So now I need a new one.
Sons of bitches. Who makes a dry clean only hat?
Anyway, let's do some action shots in the tiny hat:
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
You're a Damn Liar!
There might be a few of you out there that read my first post and were like, "Whoa whoa whoa. This guy's talking about changing his life and wanting to do something big before he chains himself to a desk forever but his blog is named Hike4Autism. He's messing with my head and I don't like it!"
Actually, nobody has said that because at this point, nobody knows that the site is here. I figure I'll make a few posts before I tell anyone about it, that way when people do start coming (knock on wood) they have a few things to get them hooked (knock on wood) instead of seeing one post and thinking, "Only one? That's bush league." And then leaving never to return.
So, if you did have some form of conflict resembling the one described above, then let me do a little clarification. I am hiking to go away and have some adventure and get some clarity. But, in the course of planning it out and thinking it over, I figured that just going was a little selfish. Maybe selfish is the wrong word. I felt that if I was going to go and keep a blog so people could read about my trip and follow me as I go, why wouldn't I use that to do something for people in need? Hence the title - Hike4Autism.
Why autism, you ask? The simple answer is that I kind of just picked it. The longer answer...well it's just a little longer. Sometimes it seems like everyone either knows someone with autism, or knows of someone with autism. It seems to affect so many individuals in so many ways, and yet nobody can say with any type of certainty why it afflicts people in the first place. So I think that deserves some attention and I hope that this blog can bring a bit to it.
My goal is to raise $5,000 by the time I return home in October, so let's see if we can make it happen. Don't make me look bad!
Actually, nobody has said that because at this point, nobody knows that the site is here. I figure I'll make a few posts before I tell anyone about it, that way when people do start coming (knock on wood) they have a few things to get them hooked (knock on wood) instead of seeing one post and thinking, "Only one? That's bush league." And then leaving never to return.
So, if you did have some form of conflict resembling the one described above, then let me do a little clarification. I am hiking to go away and have some adventure and get some clarity. But, in the course of planning it out and thinking it over, I figured that just going was a little selfish. Maybe selfish is the wrong word. I felt that if I was going to go and keep a blog so people could read about my trip and follow me as I go, why wouldn't I use that to do something for people in need? Hence the title - Hike4Autism.
Why autism, you ask? The simple answer is that I kind of just picked it. The longer answer...well it's just a little longer. Sometimes it seems like everyone either knows someone with autism, or knows of someone with autism. It seems to affect so many individuals in so many ways, and yet nobody can say with any type of certainty why it afflicts people in the first place. So I think that deserves some attention and I hope that this blog can bring a bit to it.
My goal is to raise $5,000 by the time I return home in October, so let's see if we can make it happen. Don't make me look bad!
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
Time to Get Started
Last March I was sitting at work doing exactly what I'm doing right now at home, only it was a lot more depressing. It was a March day, which I'm sure was overcast and horrible, but I wouldn't have known because I was sitting in a windowless cubicle in a windowless office. As I stare into Outlook, a small blue box in the lower right corner of my screen informs me that another press release has found its way into my inbox. This one, like all the others, touts the industry's leading product from the industry's leading company. My eyes glaze over and a thought crosses my mind.
"This is the rest of your life."
Sure, it's not the major leagues like I had once hoped, but I'm doing what I've wanted to do for a long time. I'm making my living from writing and enjoying it. But still, I figured there had to be something more to it than that. But then again, maybe there wasn't. I'm sure nobody grows up wanting to sit at a desk for the rest of their lives or working out in the cold, but the world has jobs and they need to be filled. It wasn't even the job. I love writing. It was more the lack of glamor to it.
It's probably just my tendency to romanticize everything, but I guess I always expected more excitement from a job. Every job I thought could be exciting. You're a cop, you bust drug dealers. You're a writer, you're investigating. You're a repairman and house wives greet you at the door in bath robes and little else. You own a convenience store, you get robbed a few times and make it onto Cops, America's Stupidest Criminals or at the very least break.com. Whatever a job was, I could always picture myself doing it because I injected far more excitement into it than most likely would ever be found in the real world. I guess you could say that after 9 months on the job, I had officially realized that work is a boring thing and that my mom's "Work sucked" responses to my adolescent queries about her day were not simply the result of a bad day at the office.
But it was more than that. Thinking of myself in the same position 10, 20, 30 years down the road was not exactly comforting. What will I have done by then? What will I have seen? What will I look back on? I felt a general dissatisfaction about not having done anything worthwhile, about not having done that one big thing that defines a part of your life. And it's not like I don't have ideas. I daydream all the time about the green grass on the other side and it might be while I'm talking to you. You never know what's going on in my head. This week alone I've thought out what my life would be like as a ski instructor, a band manager, living on a deserted island, what I would do if I won the lottery, living alone in a cabin in the woods somewhere, being a landlord, being an actor, being a screenwriter, being a teacher, being a brewmaster. The list goes on.
That week I'm sure I thought about those very same things, probably right up to the moment when I received an email from my friend Joe asking me if I could take a year off from everything for a trip that would put life in perspective. And that is how I have arrived at this point, writing in a blog getting ready to hike 2600 miles from Mexico to Canada. I didn't make the decision right then and there of course, but the email planted the seed. And it really wasn't just the idea of a hike, but knowing that wherever we went, when we came back, life would be in perspective.
I'm restless and have been so for quite a bit of time. I've felt like there's something out there for me that I need to do before I can settle down and be happy with the direction in which my life is headed. So something like a big trip where I'd see things that I never have before, where I'd test myself physically and mentally sounded like just the thing. Originally the plan was to put our lives on hold for a year and hike from Alaska to San Diego. Now, if you're thinking that that doesn't sound practical at all, you're right. We have few if any survival skills and quickly realized that the Alaskan wilderness would laugh at us and kill us immediately for trying to travel through without experience. So that idea fell through and changed to a hike across the middle of Canada to backpacking through Europe to a long road trip before finally being relegated to the extremely large pile of failed ideas that has built up over the course of my life.
A few months passed and after going back and forth about whether or not it was a good thing that the idea had died, I started searching around the Internet for long trails in the United States and I came across the Pacific Crest Trail. But I'll spare you the flowery descriptions of deserts, mountains and flesh eating bears. You start in Campo, Calif., walk for five months through California, Oregon and Washington and end up in Manning Park in British Columbia. So it's not Alaska to San Diego, but it was close enough for me.
And that was pretty much it. Once I did a little research and found out that there were people who've hiked it numerous times, that a few dozen hike the entire thing every year and that there were more than enough how-to guides to help me get out onto the trail, I decided to go for it.
I say it was that simply, but who am I kidding? I needed words of encouragement on multiple occasions to get myself to commit to the decision and had more than a few sleepless nights agonizing over whether the trip could really happen, whether it really even should happen in the first place.
After a while, though, that feeling just passed, probably because I did something I don't do as often as I should. I always get caught up in things, some idea that sounds like the best thing in the world, something shiny sitting on a pedestal that I have to have now now now and before I know it I own an orange 1981 Toyota Celica and can't stop wondering what it was I was so excited about.
But this one I thought over...and over and over and over. I went back and forth, double and triple checked the list, took a couple deep breaths and eventually I decided that things were going to be alright. Still, I have absolutely zero idea whether anything is going to work out, but I'm content with the decision at least. Then again, I've had this feeling before, but let's just hope all my planning makes the ending a bit different.
So that's why I'm hiking. It's not because I hate work, my cubicle or the idea of being at a desk writing in 30 years (my cubicle actually is gray, but it's really not that bad and it's surrounded by nice people), just that before I get there I want to have done something worthwhile along the way, and the hike is it.
Mile one begins in two and a half months.
"This is the rest of your life."
Sure, it's not the major leagues like I had once hoped, but I'm doing what I've wanted to do for a long time. I'm making my living from writing and enjoying it. But still, I figured there had to be something more to it than that. But then again, maybe there wasn't. I'm sure nobody grows up wanting to sit at a desk for the rest of their lives or working out in the cold, but the world has jobs and they need to be filled. It wasn't even the job. I love writing. It was more the lack of glamor to it.
It's probably just my tendency to romanticize everything, but I guess I always expected more excitement from a job. Every job I thought could be exciting. You're a cop, you bust drug dealers. You're a writer, you're investigating. You're a repairman and house wives greet you at the door in bath robes and little else. You own a convenience store, you get robbed a few times and make it onto Cops, America's Stupidest Criminals or at the very least break.com. Whatever a job was, I could always picture myself doing it because I injected far more excitement into it than most likely would ever be found in the real world. I guess you could say that after 9 months on the job, I had officially realized that work is a boring thing and that my mom's "Work sucked" responses to my adolescent queries about her day were not simply the result of a bad day at the office.
But it was more than that. Thinking of myself in the same position 10, 20, 30 years down the road was not exactly comforting. What will I have done by then? What will I have seen? What will I look back on? I felt a general dissatisfaction about not having done anything worthwhile, about not having done that one big thing that defines a part of your life. And it's not like I don't have ideas. I daydream all the time about the green grass on the other side and it might be while I'm talking to you. You never know what's going on in my head. This week alone I've thought out what my life would be like as a ski instructor, a band manager, living on a deserted island, what I would do if I won the lottery, living alone in a cabin in the woods somewhere, being a landlord, being an actor, being a screenwriter, being a teacher, being a brewmaster. The list goes on.
That week I'm sure I thought about those very same things, probably right up to the moment when I received an email from my friend Joe asking me if I could take a year off from everything for a trip that would put life in perspective. And that is how I have arrived at this point, writing in a blog getting ready to hike 2600 miles from Mexico to Canada. I didn't make the decision right then and there of course, but the email planted the seed. And it really wasn't just the idea of a hike, but knowing that wherever we went, when we came back, life would be in perspective.
I'm restless and have been so for quite a bit of time. I've felt like there's something out there for me that I need to do before I can settle down and be happy with the direction in which my life is headed. So something like a big trip where I'd see things that I never have before, where I'd test myself physically and mentally sounded like just the thing. Originally the plan was to put our lives on hold for a year and hike from Alaska to San Diego. Now, if you're thinking that that doesn't sound practical at all, you're right. We have few if any survival skills and quickly realized that the Alaskan wilderness would laugh at us and kill us immediately for trying to travel through without experience. So that idea fell through and changed to a hike across the middle of Canada to backpacking through Europe to a long road trip before finally being relegated to the extremely large pile of failed ideas that has built up over the course of my life.
A few months passed and after going back and forth about whether or not it was a good thing that the idea had died, I started searching around the Internet for long trails in the United States and I came across the Pacific Crest Trail. But I'll spare you the flowery descriptions of deserts, mountains and flesh eating bears. You start in Campo, Calif., walk for five months through California, Oregon and Washington and end up in Manning Park in British Columbia. So it's not Alaska to San Diego, but it was close enough for me.
And that was pretty much it. Once I did a little research and found out that there were people who've hiked it numerous times, that a few dozen hike the entire thing every year and that there were more than enough how-to guides to help me get out onto the trail, I decided to go for it.
I say it was that simply, but who am I kidding? I needed words of encouragement on multiple occasions to get myself to commit to the decision and had more than a few sleepless nights agonizing over whether the trip could really happen, whether it really even should happen in the first place.
After a while, though, that feeling just passed, probably because I did something I don't do as often as I should. I always get caught up in things, some idea that sounds like the best thing in the world, something shiny sitting on a pedestal that I have to have now now now and before I know it I own an orange 1981 Toyota Celica and can't stop wondering what it was I was so excited about.
But this one I thought over...and over and over and over. I went back and forth, double and triple checked the list, took a couple deep breaths and eventually I decided that things were going to be alright. Still, I have absolutely zero idea whether anything is going to work out, but I'm content with the decision at least. Then again, I've had this feeling before, but let's just hope all my planning makes the ending a bit different.
So that's why I'm hiking. It's not because I hate work, my cubicle or the idea of being at a desk writing in 30 years (my cubicle actually is gray, but it's really not that bad and it's surrounded by nice people), just that before I get there I want to have done something worthwhile along the way, and the hike is it.
Mile one begins in two and a half months.
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