Project Eveningland

2/4/2023 Saturday

Two years ago, in 2021, I hiked the bottom third of the AT.

I did it in two chunks: 400 miles on an injured ankle (my overuse injury began around mile 35); 370 miles on a less-injured ankle protected by a big ol’ brace. At that point, I ran out of time–my sabbatical was ending. In just over a week, I’ll disembark for my second attempt at thru-hiking the Appalachian Trail. I’ll fly to Ohio and my parents will drive my ass down to Georgia for a 2/15 start date at Amicalola (the very beginning of the trail–this means I am “starting over” which must seem nuts to everyone who hasn’t “failed” at a thru-hike).

I’ve taken leave from my job on the advice of my medical providers, who feel that some time away from work will help keep my major recurrent depressive disorder in remission longer. I’ve been sheepish to talk about this because it feels like “getting away with something” but all the experts I spoke to told me that it was a perfectly ethical, perfectly legit thing to do. The clincher for me was probably enduring a seven month major depressive episode that began in October 2021 and took until April 2022 to begin to turn around. It just happened to me, like it used to. That cold creeping numb feeling began in October and slowly got worse and worse until I felt like a shell of a person. It took every last ounce of strength and motivation to continue to function at work and maintain my relationships. If you know, you know.

But we aren’t supposed to talk about these things! I learned early that mental illness is something you’re supposed to keep private. That’s changing now, especially after the pandemic, but it’s still difficult to be open about. It’s difficult to know where privacy ends and shame and secrecy begin. I’m done speaking about depression and anxiety in hushed tones. If we want to end the stigma around mental illness, the people who can afford to speak up will have to, though of course that is an individual choice. I manage my health with medications, therapy, and, in the words of my therapist, “exercise, sleep, and nutrition, in that order of priority.”

What about my physical health? Will I get injured again? An honest answer is, “probably,” but only because most people who try to thru-hike the trail in one season get injured and have to leave the trail. Tracy, my oldest sister, asked, “what’s to prevent the same thing from happening again?” On the one hand, nothing. Or less than nothing, because the ankle is not as it was before the last AT hike–it may never again be what it was. It still hurts sometimes. One the other hand, there’s a good deal to prevent it. I’ve spent the last two years working with a DPT, training, and going on practice hikes, including 500 combined miles last summer on the Sheltowee Trace, the Colorado Trail and the Laurel Highlands Hiking Trail (this last was Ben’s and my honeymoon hike). I’ve saved the money, planned ahead, and cut pounds off my baseweight (what my equipment weighs, minus consumables like water and food).

My approach has changed. I’ve carved out a much longer period of time so that I can make the choice to go slower, especially at first, and really baby my “lucky” ankle. I have Ehlers-Danlos, a genetic condition which affects, among other things, the collagen in my body. My joints are loose, always have been. The regenerative medicine doc I saw for the original AT injury used to say to me, “you’re a flexible guy.” He explained that, in my case, ED (Ehlers-Danlos) makes it harder to get injured in the first place, but also harder to heal. The last two years have been about trying to figure out how to work with it to get it to take me where I want to go. We (my body [Ben and I pronounce “body” as “BURR-dee”] and I) are on better terms than ever.

This blog is designed to keep family and friends up to date on my misadventures. I already journal while on the trail (on my previous AT journey, I wrote an average of 600 words per day, every day, on a phone keyboard). So I’ll excerpt those entries here so folks can know how I’m doing. It’ll probably be at least PG-13.

Did I mention that I also happen to be married to a real mensch who’ll take care of the animals and manage our household while I’m away like a very affable Mrs. Hughes?