Month: February 2018

I have traveled to numerous locations around the country, but I’ve never been to Arkansas. So, I was really excited this past weekend to have the opportunity to go. My boyfriend’d kids are currently living there with their mom on 800 acres in a tiny town where the closest city is an hour drive. We flew into Kansas City, MO, early in the morning. It was a quick flight where thankfully we caught a nap before our long drive south.

Upon reaching the airport, we grabbed our bags and picked up the rental car. Our destination was still four hours away down winding roads. As we drove, we crossed a sea of hills and open prairie. Things just seemed slower, more serene, when compared to what I know of Fort Myers these days. Everywhere you looked there was a whole lot of nothing, and it was good. It felt like this would be the part of US that promoted 4H, and listened to country music. On a Sunday morning, everybody you know is in church, and when you shop downtown they still tip their hat when a neighbor passes by. Like something out a Norman Rockwell painting.

It’s really beautiful. It reminds you of what life may have been like back in the day, before the high-fi, wifi and endless reality TV. It’s wholesome. I’m guessing a much healthier way of life than many of us may ever get to experience. There is a ton of wildlife living among the tree lined dirt roads, barns and houses, ponds and open sky, patches of forrest, caves and gullies. Even in the bitter cold, which hovered just above 10 degrees much of our visit, you could feel the calm in the air, and in the night you could see stars easily as the nearest light from any big city was literally miles away.

On top of the experience of all that is Arkansas, it was equally awesome to see everyone. The weekend seemed to breeze by. Even though the cold of winter sunk straight into our bones, we braved it, piling into the truck and heading to check out the Ponca Wilderness Area. There were amazing views of caves, rock formations, and clear blue river water. We saw a herd of elk while we were headed back to the house. So, we took a few pictures and took it all in. About half way home we stopped at a cute little truck stop. They had everything from gifts to candies, deli service and hot foods. We decided to stay a bit and grab a sit down snack.

Later that evening back at the house, while watching a movie on the television, I realized I felt a bit nauseated. I ignored it and it seemed to not hit me all that terribly hard. We finished out the day and eventually went to bed. Around 3 AM that’s when I finally crumbled. I was sick, real sick. Basically spending a good 20 hours sleeping and going to the bathroom, over and over again. It was probably the most sick I’ve been in a long time. The next day a few more of us got sick, but it was only those who had the chicken items at the gas station the day before. A case of food poisoning. Eventually I got over it, but it felt like I spent a huge chunk of time secluded in misery in the bedroom. It was not fun.

The next morning we had to head out. Our visit was just a long weekend and we had to be up by 1AM. By this time, unfortunately, the others were finally getting what I had had, but this morning we had to drive four hours back to Kansas City, for a flight that was to last another 3 hours home. I felt bad for the others, but was sure glad I was over it before having to travel. Stroke of luck for me.

They remained strong, doing what they had to to cope and meet the flight on time. We got on the plane  finally pulling into Punta Gorda, FL, right on time. After getting our bags, we headed outside for our ride. As soon as we hit the pavement the heat and the humidity were like a brick to the face… Welcome home.

It’s three months to the day since I got back from the Appalachian Trail and started back at work in the real world. That was November 8, and now it’s February 8th. I’m still on the fence as to whether or not I’m planning on making my third attempt at the world record for self supported hike.

I want to justify going again because I had a three year plan. Why quit now? I’ve only completed two. Nobody wins a world record their first, sometimes their second, or third attempts, and I’m not one to back down from challenges. I guess I’m stubborn. I have two years of training and money and time invested. I also feel like if I give up, what the hell was all that effort for? I don’t want to be that 80 year old woman who said she tried the impossible and gave up right when she was about to turn a corner. Now I have the maps, the apps, the training, the experience, the gear. After two failed and half witted attempts, I’m more knowledgeable, and better prepared than ever. How could I not be?

Then there is the reality of my poor strategy and all the time I mentally crumbled out there. I learned so much every time I went, but maybe I’m getting too old for this sort of thing. Maybe I just don’t have what it takes to stay on track. Maybe I’m just not physically strong enough. Maybe I never was. Maybe I’m fooling myself. It feels like crap to have everyone I know backing me up and cheering me on, just to come home with my tail between my legs, twice. A third time is really going to sting.

There is a huge part of me saying there’s no way in hell I’m cut out for this record. My number last year was pretty much pathetic. Yet, I knew I’d have to hike the whole trail at least once before I could possibly make any serious attempt due to the many surprises one encounters on an adventure such as this, and now I have. There isn’t one part of this trail I haven’t seen. I have a better understanding of the time of year I should go, where supply is plentiful, where I can and can’t charge my electricals, where the hot showers are, and how little I can get away with hoisting upon my back at any given time without risking health, happiness, or speed.

It is near impossible to predict weather no matter what time of year I go. It’s seems I always get slammed with unexpected temperatures high and low, or intense amounts of rain, threats of snow or ice. I get sidetracked by “whoops” moments that cost time and cause me to expel excess energy for no reason what so ever. I hem and haw once I’ve had a shower and it dawns on me I have to go back out there and stew in my own filth for an unknown amount of time before the next one. Plus, for God’s sake, so much of this is just about luck, proper execution at the proper time, making all the right decisions, flawlessly. That’s a tall order when you strike out against Mother Nature and yourself. You never know what she’s going to deliver, or how you’ll perform. You just pray for the best case scenario and to not get lost along the way.

At the same time, I’m acutely aware I’m attempting to compete against many people who train at elevation, a luxury I don’t have, leaving me handicapped coming from Florida. They literally metabolize oxygen differently than I do. They are running like Kenyans compared to me. To feel the confidence I would have liked on a third attempt, I would had to have been at least somewhat close to the time I was reaching for, 54 days. I was nowhere in the ballpark. I’d have to pick up my pace and be more than twice as fast. I may be asking my body to do the impossible. I’m not 25, not 35. I’m 45, soon to be 46. Recovery sucks on old bones such as these.

In fact, my health just generally sucks right now. I thought it would be good to give myself a couple months off from training and let my body heal, let life happen, but now I just feel fat and tired. In fact an entire additional month has passed by with me just being lazy. At this point I’m completely out of shape. The idea of hitting the gym and streets at 4AM for the brutal training schedule I once kept seems like a feat for giants. I’m not thrilled by the idea in the slightest, and have no idea how to get myself motivated again. I’m immersed in junk food, toxic stimuli, stressed out, bad sleeping patterns, bad habits sort of living. It’s nauseating. I look in the mirror and ask myself how I got here. My physique is completely not where I want or would need. If I do this again, it’s going to be a long, grueling struggle to get back to where I was. I feel like a blob. How the hell am I going to pull this off?

It doesn’t help that the support systems I had are starting to loose their luster. My boss isn’t exactly thrilled I would be gone yet again for months. My financial backers are probably a little less excited to back me, and my friends don’t treat my efforts with as much seriousness any more. Mentors tell me to give up the nonsense and start focusing on improving other areas of my life. I can’t say I blame anyone. I didn’t exactly reach my goal, again, and at this point it’s not looking good, but if world records were easy to achieve, everybody would have one. The way I see it, I knew when I got into this it may take years of attempts, and not everyone would understand what I was up against. I look to the world record held by Diana Nyad for swimming between Cuba and Florida. She made a ton of mistakes, learned to overcome them, but kept going. She analyzed her performance, made the necessary changes, and still faced new challenges with each attempt. She didn’t finally pull it off until she was 64 and five attempts in. I don’t think the average person appreciates what needs to be put into pulling a record off. It takes total dedication, but do I possess that gift? Do I have the ability to analyze myself properly and distinguish between whether or not I’m just being stubborn and not letting go of an impossible dream, or am I being strong and holding true to my desires? Who am I? What makes me think I’m on the right track? Because I’ll tell you what, nothing leaves your life suspended in mid air like attempting the impossible. I literally can’t move forward with the rest of my life. All my money, my time, my everything goes into this. So, I guess the question is am I really all in, or not? If I am, all other things in my life will continue to coast on autopilot until I finally get beat up enough to say it’s over, or win. Or do I put this behind me, and work on improving my current status and start thinking more about ways to secure my future, stop chasing dragons, this drug, hiking.

I literally hate giving up. I’ve stayed in hopeless situations before, and lost everything because I was too stubborn to just walk away. Is this another one of those moments? Or is this my calling? I’ll tell you what, nothing makes me feel more normal, more alive, than this quest. To give up and allow myself to be assimilated into the real world makes me shudder. Hiking isn’t an option, it’s a lifestyle. It’s my life. What am I without my wanderlust and competitive edge?