When I left my hometown of Cincinnati, I swore I would never come back (except for Christmas of course). Cincinnati was a conservative, segregated, backwards place, and there was a wide open world of suffering just waiting for my helping hands. I wouldn't settle for the comfort of home.
But somewhere in the middle of my two year stint as a Peace Corps volunteer, things changed. I had just gotten married, and I was going through the most difficult cultural experience of my life. The pull of being close to my family was stronger than ever, and the further I moved away from home, the more I realized the problems I was trying to fix elsewhere in the world were the same problems I had moved away from in Cincinnati.
My wife, Heidi, and I moved back to Cincinnati. I got a job (which I love) and we bought a house in the same neighborhood I was born in. I wasn't even thirty years old and I had somehow checked off all the boxes (career-check; family-check; house in the suburbs-check). And while I loved my career at St. Vincent de Paul, I loved my wife, and I loved my neighborhood, I felt like something was missing. I missed the forward progress. I missed the spirit of adventure. I missed the motion.
April, 2011: My neighbor, Chuck, my dad and I were on a backpacking trip at Frozen Head State Park, Tennessee. It turned out that what we thought would be a massive expedition (+/- 20 miles in 4 days) would pale in comparison to what we saw. We had unknowingly stumbled into what is arguably the world's toughest footrace: the Barkley Marathons. We would watch as men and women tried to fight their way through more than 100 miles of grueling off-trail terrain. Only one would finish the race. While Chuck and my dad thought that the whole thing was nuts, something inside of me began to stir.
Later that year, seemingly out of the blue, my wife declared that she would be running the Flying Pig Marathon with Team in Training. While I told her that she was nuts, that same little spark that I had felt watching the Barkley began to stir in me again. Eventually, after watching her go out for runs for a few weeks while I sat on the couch continuing to get fatter, I told her I was going to run the Pig as well.
Running, for me, had always been either a punishment or a means to an end. A punishment when messing up a play in football. A means to an end when training for a boxing match. But as I began training for the marathon, running slowly became an enjoyable experience where I could satisfy my wanderlust while still holding down a meaningful job, building a family and paying the mortgage.
While experiencing the thrill of this new-found passion (and before I had yet experienced the pain of an 18+ mile run), I set three goals for 2012- The Year of Motion:
- Run the Flying Pig Marathon
- Thru-hike the Superior Hiking Trail
- Run the Stone Steps 50k
I've just checked off goal #1, the Flying Pig. It was a painful, yet exhilarating experience. Beginning May 18th, my dad and I will attempt to tackle goal #2, a thru-hike of the Superior Hiking Trail. Traveling 235 miles along the north shore of Lake Superior from Canada to Duluth, Minnesota, the trail will be a test of my mental and physical endurance. It will also provide two and a half weeks away from life as I know it in Cincinnati.
What I will reflect on, and what I will discover, I honestly have no idea. I invite you to read this blog to share in my SHT adventure. With the help of my mom, I'll be providing updates of my trip every couple of days beginning May 18th. Please subscribe to keep updated on the trip, and to offer me words of encouragement along the way!!!
Matt
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