The Way

Is that the SUN glistening on the water???

Despite last night's humorous post, yesterday's 21 mile slog through the pouring rain really took it out of me.  When I woke up this morning, I felt horrible, both mentally and physically.  My right Achilles heel had hurt with literally every step for the past two days, and sure enough my first step out of the tent sent a shooting pain through my leg.  My shoes were still soaking wet from the day before, and even though today was supposed to be sunny, according to the 10 day forecast this might be our last day on the trip without any rain.  The thought of putting myself through another 135 miles of this seemed impossible.

I called Heidi and told her how low I was feeling and that I didn't know if I wanted to keep going.  She's given me this advice before, and gave it to me again: don't quit on a bad day.  While I thought that this was a bit of a setup because I probably wouldn't have a single "good day" for the rest of my trip, I thought what the heck, I'll go out and walk a few more miles, try to enjoy the nice weather and then end it on a high note.

 

After dad dropped me off back at the trail, about 10 painful steps in, I decided to quit.  My body wasn't going to get any better, the weather wasn't going to improve, and I just wasn't going to get anything out of this.  As I had every morning for the last four days, I felt like I had just run a marathon, but instead of two weeks of rest I was staring down another 20 mile day, then another, then another.

 

Content with this decision, and happy to be at the end of the journey, I decided I would finish my day, hit 120 miles and pass the half-way point.  I started writing my final blog post in my head (I do that most days, something to think about during 9 hours on the trail!).  It would be about how I gave it my best shot, how I would have trained differently, how we learn more from our failures than our successes, how I had walked 120 miles in 6 days and that was still a big accomplishment, etc. etc.

I called Heidi from a ridge on the trail to tell her about my decision, and as always, she told me exactly what I needed to hear.  She said that I had done an amazing job, that I was hurt and the weather was bad so that was totally understandable to stop, and that she was still proud of me.  While she meant all of this very genuinely, it had an unsettling effect on me.  I wasn't "hurt," I just had a sore heel.  Yeah, the weather was bad, but what did I expect coming here in May?  What did she mean she was still proud of me?  Did she even think I could have done this in the first place?  (Sidebar: Women are clever.  If she had said "you can do it, keep toughing it out" that would not have gone over very well!)

 

A bit disconcerted, I continued down the trail.  The shooting pain with each step helped reassure me that I had made the right choice.  About 10 miles in, I arrived at a bridge over the Caribou River.  Like most of the creeks I had passed over (or waded through) today, the Caribou was absolutely booming from the last three days of rain.  I sat down on a rock just above the river, and took in the sights and sounds.

The Caribou River booming toward Lake Superior

This was just the type of moment I had come here to experience, right?  Mother Nature was showing the awesome force of the storm she had produced yesterday.  But I had survived that storm.  I had walked through that storm.  I had put down 21 miles in that storm!  And now on a sunny day I was going to quit?

I got back on the trail seriously questioning my decision to quit, but each step forward reminded me of the problems I was facing.  Jeff Alt described his Appalachian Trail thru-hike as a 2100 mile exercise in problem solving, so I decided that I would try to break down the problems and see if I could find a solution.  As far as I could tell, there were three big issues with the 6 or so remaining days of hiking I was facing:

1.  Strain on the Body:  I thought that training for the Flying Pig Marathon would put me in good shape for this hike.  I was wrong.  I wasn't prepared for the daily, repeated strain on my body.  My physical problems were getting worse, not better, and I needed rest.

2.  Moisture:  If I walked all day in the rain, the next morning my shoes and socks would be soaked, even if it was nice that day.  This was causing blisters and all around unpleasantness.  I needed to take a break between hiking days so I could dry out.

3.  Mentality:  The thought of 6 more wet, sore, 20 mile days was frankly overwhelming.  At the same time, the thought of bagging the trip now and not achieving my goal was disappointing.

So, what were possible solutions to address all three problems?  I could quit, which would certainly address problems 1 and 2, but not problem 3.  I could take a couple of days off and then get back on the trail, but I was back at problem 3 again.  I knew that if I took a "rest" day and sat in my tent, not making any forward progress, by 10:00am I would either be back on the trail running myself into the ground, or packed up and driving home to Cincinnati.

Then I thought of a third way.  While I had done all the actual walking, this hike had certainly been a collaborative experience so far between me and my dad.  In addition to playing the support role, he had been joining me on some stretches of the hike, and had also been taking some scenic loops on highlights of the trail.  With today's break in the weather, in fact he was taking a nearly 10 mile round trip hike up Mt. Trudee, and so far his knee had not given him any issues.  So, what if we tag teamed the trail?  With 6 days and 110 miles to go after today, he could do a 15ish mile day while I rested, I could do 22 the next day while he rested, and so on and so forth.  This would give my body some time to heal, my shoes and socks a day to dry out between hikes, and psychologically I'd get a boost knowing that when I was feeling it on a rough hike, I had a day of rest ahead of me.

When I met my dad at a road crossing around mile 15 of the day, I pitched the idea, and he was on board!  Whether he knew it or not, I felt that he had as much to do with the fact that I had made it this far (whether from the support he had provided me on this trip or in making me the man I am today) as I did, so I was glad that he could have this extra stake in the game.  And while I personally wouldn't be going all 235 miles, Team Flege would, and I think that's pretty cool. 

Despite the pain, with a new game plan in place, I finished the last 5 miles of what was actually a scenic and enjoyable hike.  Tomorrow, I'll drop dad off for a 13 mile hike, attend to the laundry, and then make dinner as he writes a guest blog entry (I've had a couple requests for that so here ya go!).  A little different plan, but we're still moving forward.

Icing down after 120 Miles

Matt

PS:  since I didn't have a song recommendation for you today, I have a movie recommendation.  "The Way" is about a young man (played by Emilio Esteves) who is hiking the Camino del Santiago, a 500ish mile pilgrimage in northern Spain, but dies in a tragic accident.  His father (played by Martin Sheen of course) travels to Spain to collect his ashes, but ends up continuing the pilgrimage.  I thought of this movie because I wish I had died on day one like Emilio and then I wouldn't have to walk anymore.  Ok seriously, I thought about it because I realize how fortunate I am to share this experience with my dad.