Pursuit of Happiness - The Part 2

I wasn’t ready to be off-trail. I wasn’t ready to be home – not yet.

Don't get me wrong, there were many perks to being back. I missed my family, my dog and the familiar comforts of home. I was able to shower whenever I wanted, sleep in a bed every night, and change clothes every day. I was able to spend weekdays with my family, take shade in air-conditioned rooms, and enjoy lazy days poolside.

It was also the right place to be to heal, recover, and ultimately determine the status of my feet and hike. It was the right decision to return home, but removing myself so drastically from the remote mountains and hikers left me feeling defeated. I wasn't ready to be proud of what I've already accomplished and stop. There was so much left to hike. So much more to experience, see and learn.

I saw an orthopedist the day after I returned. He advised me to see a neurologist for an EMG to test for nerve damage since my feet were numb at the exam. He wasn't thrilled with my desire to return to trail, and I wasn't thrilled with his suggestion to stop. He insisted that numb feet are abnormal. I insisted he had no idea about the norms of long-distance hiking. (Shout out to Mom for sitting through those appointments with enough composure for both of us).

I waited as patiently as I could for the EMG the following week, but I was starting to feel hopeless. The “hiker hobble” wasn’t improving. I was even more uneasy at the EMG. Every electric shock in my legs caused a reflex, while the shocks in my feet were simply sensed. Much to my relief (understatement), there was no nerve damage and the fracture had healed. It was honestly all I needed to hear to decide to return to the PCT. The trail has a 14% completion rate due to injury and mental burnout. Since my injury wasn’t bad enough, and I was still very much mentally committed to the trail, I didn’t want to give up.

I knew where I went wrong. I had hiked over 500 miles in the wrong shoes. My pronating feet had no support, were swollen from the desert heat, and were going over 15 miles a day on a minor fracture. They had no time to recover properly before hiking in the new shoes, and were going at the same speed and distance every day. It made sense that they were still swollen and sore. Thru-hikers can expect discomfort and stiffness in their lower extremities for weeks to a couple months after completing their thru, so it made sense that they felt that way even though I was sedentary at home.

I knew that when I returned to the PCT, however, I would have to significantly reduce my speed, lower my daily mileage, and shorten my stretches of days hiking to keep the pain at bay. I also knew because of the lost time and physical limitations that I wouldn't be able to hike every section left of the PCT.

And that was okay. The PCT isn’t about the actual miles for me anymore. It’s beautiful, fun, and it’s the challenge I needed it to be – but it’s become so much more. The trail and its culture has been my medicine, my S.A.R. It’s broken me down and put the best version of myself back together. It has brought me more joy, and made me feel more like myself than any combination of happy pills that I’ve tried over the years. The trail, the hikers, and the trail angels fuel our best characteristics, and allow our positive qualities to manifest. The environment helps you see yourself clearer – away from the daily stresses, distractions, and that 9-5. The trail strips away our fight or flight mode, our defenses, and the noise from society fades. With the help of a quiet environment, positive self-talk, and an indomitable will, I find myself atop mountains thinking, “Oh, there I am!” I no longer feel like I have the weight of the world on my shoulders – just a tolerable 30 lb. pack. So although I will have to skip a nice chunk of miles moving forward, and slow down in pace, returning is worth it.

I was also not ready to end what has been the best time of my life. Many years have tasted bitter, and I was finally making memories worth keeping. I finally felt like I was the matador – no longer hiding behind the muleta. I had taken control of my life, took the bull by the horns, gave myself an incredible gift, and have been living my life to the fullest. It’s not lost on me that this journey is a huge privilege, and a once in a lifetime opportunity. I was able to make a dream to many, my reality. With my dream in my hands, I couldn’t and wouldn’t let go despite the physical limits.

There were also many things that I missed: The nomadic freedom. The simplicity of life out there. The landscapes so stunning that it’s hard to find language to describe it, and pictures can’t capture it. The strength we feel after hiking hundreds of miles. The informal clump of hikers enduring the same discomforts as me. I wanted to go back, and not just to hike. I had found contentment in an unlikely place – not always in the mountains, but with the company I keep. The most unlikely friendships have become the most meaningful. Everyone has a significant reason to be out there, a resolution that is often discussed. The level in which we can relate and support each other is unmatched. I wanted to be around them a little while longer.

Thru-Hiking the PCT is a multi-faceted journey. It’s not solely a hike up the west coasts mountain ranges. It’s not about counting each of the 2653 miles. When your pace slows to 2.5 MPH, so does the world around you. You live in the moment. You experience things around you that you may have otherwise missed. There is time to reflect, think, and mend. A beautiful dirt path with many peaks and valleys is there not just to hike, but to teach us how to go navigate the rollercoaster of our own minds and lives. I may have to slow down. I may have to skip some sections. Nevertheless, I’ll happily take less steps on the trail to take more steps in my personal growth and happiness.