Day 1 Part III

I held out until the last two miles before my emotions could not be held back by the dam anymore. I wailed for the loneliness I would feel, for the pain in my knee I would have to endure, for the uncertainty of my living situation, for the people I was about to let down (several of which I had inspired to pursue their own dreams...what would they think of me now in my lowly state). I felt as if I had hit rock bottom…pun intended.

The miles seemed to carry on forever, and it did not help that I was making my way down as if I was in a drunken stupor meandering left and right, each step weighted and clumsy while the tears gushed out and blurred my unsteady line of sight.

I would then cork the water works, breathe out some hot air and try to focus on the hike only to step deeper into my pit of emotions, all my friends and family at the party I will have to explain my failed attempt to, on top of this,I was reminded of the two cavities in my teeth, the home that was in the process of being sold, the car keys I gave away, the numerous bills I owed for doctors visits, insurance, and school. And here I am literally walking away from it all, and how am I contributing to society? I wondered.

I continued this ebb and flow of ocular flood and drought always turning about to confirm my solitude on the trail before I allowed the gates of catharsis to open once more. I felt like Dianne Keaton in the movie, “Something’s Gotta Give,” when she is typing, and having waves of wails, then shakes her head and continues to type only to be overcome by more tears. If you have not seen this movie you should really make the time.

But I digress. Part of me thought that I might see my parents back at the campsite waiting for me but when I turned on my phone I saw that my invitation text had never sent.

So after my umpteenth time of sobbing hysterically, I saw that I had reach Katahdin Stream Campsite through my receding tears and that there were people, the first people I'd seen all day. S***, that’s embarrassing. I checked the time: 6:59pm it took me about 8 hours to complete the 8.2mile hike. I knew that I was blotchy and I was not feeling social as I trudged passed the tent sites and lean-toos in search for leat-too number 5. One woman waved from a picnic bench and I sort of gave a heavy-hearted wave that probably looked more like hand twitch.

This is when I saw the ranger, the one we had run into when my parents were dropping me off at Abol. “Hey, how did it go?” Then he noticed my blotchy face and dampened state. “What lean-too are you in?” I choked it out. When he asked for my name, I could only say my first, then I had to pause and fight back the tears, gave a peep of an apology and a sniffle then I gave my last. I think it was so hard to say my name because I was not proud of my name at the time. The ranger did not once ask if I was okay or what was the matter. He was trying to stay positive. I wasn’t sure if he was used to seeing this sort of behavior. 

I crawled to the back of lean-too number 5 and saw fruit, a bottle of water and notes. I realized my parents were my first trail angels. More water works and lights out.  

When I shared this story with my aunt and cousins later on my aunt stopped me mid sentence and asked, "how long had it been after your parents dropped you off that you started to miss them?" "8 hours," I replied and we both erupted into laughter. That's the great thing about embarrassing stories, as painful as they are in the moment, they provide some of the best material later on to joke about, not to mention the great abs you'll have from laughing about them.