I am finding it difficult to put my feelings into words right now. I must accept what happened and work with it, but the emotional adjustment of being home is hard to make.
July 27, 2013
Yesterday I turned 61 years old. I celebrated my birthday at home, which was not in the planning book for this summer. I have been carrying a birthday card from Susan in my pack, sealed in plastic wrap so it wouldn't get wet on the trail. I had promised not to open it until my birthday. Yesterday I opened it at our dining room table after a home cooked meal, instead of sitting alone in my tent after a cup of ramen noodles and some beef jerky. It may not have been part of my plan for the summer, but it was good to be alive and well.
My friend, Roger drove me home a few days ago after I recovered enough from the heat exhaustion to travel. I am doing fine now, getting closer to normal every day. From past experience, I know it will take another week or so until my system settles back to normal. Until then, I am ultra sensitive to the heat and need to be careful about long periods of exposure to direct sunlight.
I am finding it difficult to put my feelings into words right now. I must accept what happened and work with it, but the emotional adjustment of being home is hard to make. Much of my free time during the convention was spent studying the next section of trail through Virginia and up to New York. All the plans for resupply, the overlooks and sites I would see, the towns and hostels I would pass through and stay in, have now been set aside.
I know that the trail will always be there. I can do sections of it and finish as many others have. Up until now, however, I have been a through hiker, someone attempting to complete the entire trail in one season. That mindset has been with me over the months and miles, even when my father's death and the convention put me far behind schedule. It is not easy to let go of that status. In a way, it is just a few more ashes to rise above.
Yesterday I turned 61 years old. I celebrated my birthday at home, which was not in the planning book for this summer. I have been carrying a birthday card from Susan in my pack, sealed in plastic wrap so it wouldn't get wet on the trail. I had promised not to open it until my birthday. Yesterday I opened it at our dining room table after a home cooked meal, instead of sitting alone in my tent after a cup of ramen noodles and some beef jerky. It may not have been part of my plan for the summer, but it was good to be alive and well.
My friend, Roger drove me home a few days ago after I recovered enough from the heat exhaustion to travel. I am doing fine now, getting closer to normal every day. From past experience, I know it will take another week or so until my system settles back to normal. Until then, I am ultra sensitive to the heat and need to be careful about long periods of exposure to direct sunlight.
I am finding it difficult to put my feelings into words right now. I must accept what happened and work with it, but the emotional adjustment of being home is hard to make. Much of my free time during the convention was spent studying the next section of trail through Virginia and up to New York. All the plans for resupply, the overlooks and sites I would see, the towns and hostels I would pass through and stay in, have now been set aside.
I know that the trail will always be there. I can do sections of it and finish as many others have. Up until now, however, I have been a through hiker, someone attempting to complete the entire trail in one season. That mindset has been with me over the months and miles, even when my father's death and the convention put me far behind schedule. It is not easy to let go of that status. In a way, it is just a few more ashes to rise above.
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