Bend October

I stood up at the river, turned my back on the Deschutes, went to pick up my backpack and the tears came instantly. They took me by surprise, yet they should not have as I had been crying intermittently all day. The last day of a momentous trip and the emotions overtook me. I turned back to face the river and allowed the tears to fall as I sobbed quietly. When they slowed I donned my sunglasses and backpack and walked along the gravel path back into downtown Bend, keeping the river on my left. Tears appeared at times as I walked along the path towards my final meal in Bend. I knew that as I walked I was leaving a piece of myself in Bend.

I shortly came upon the pedestrian bridge, my thoughts instantly drawn to the previous Saturday, and I walked on, yet a few steps later I turned, drawn back to stand on the bridge and look out over the river towards the mountains. I stepped on the wooden planks, uneven, studded with screws, and walked to the middle. The sun shone over my shoulder and I stood simply letting the tears gather. I knew I needed to mark that moment, and I recorded some videos, unsure of exactly what I wanted to say. I let the tears fall as I expressed my gratitude, my joy, and even my sorrow. 

Saturday, October 8th marked the completion of the first scouting hike of the American Perimeter Trail. My best friend, my business partner, and one of the most important people in my life walked the pedestrian bridge over the Deschutes River into Drake Park in Bend, OR completing a 3 year journey. As I watched him cross that bridge I smiled, I laughed, I cheered, and I was overwhelmed. With a smile, tears in his eyes and a swing of his flag he completed the loop. I thought I would cry, instead I smiled, we hugged, we laughed, and I was overwhelmed with it all. Another demarcation in my life, one of joy, sweetness, and a lot of dedication and work. A moment made possible by a simple connection on Instagram, an offer to help, and an acceptance.

The past 3 years were not easy for either of us. There were traumatic moments, changes in course, but most importantly there was connection and a willingness to go forward. At the transition points we talked, we argued, and we found a way to move through as friends and business partners. It has been a gift, a privilege, and an honor to accompany him on this journey, and even now, 6 weeks later, the moment he crossed the bridge brings me to tears. They are tears of joy, gratitude, and love for a friend and a project. A project that was not mine but quickly became my passion, my own project; integrating into so much of life I cannot imagine, do not care to imagine, how the past 3 years would have unfolded without it. 

Now the project moves on a new path and I cannot help but grieve some of what was. It was never perfect, but it was familiar and faced with the unfamiliar there is fear as well as excitement. For nearly 3 years we journeyed to this space, and finding ourselves having crossed here I find more tears. They are powerful tears, ones that hold space for the grief of the loss of the familiar while holding hope for the future. Around the bend we find ourselves.

I went backpacking

 I went backpacking.

I went backpacking Memorial Day weekend to ground myself, reset myself, and get away from everything that had been occurring over the past few days previously. Friday night I attempted to pack my bag, but my mind was too scattered, unable to focus on even the simplest of tasks of packing up my quilt and grabbing pajamas for the trail. Saturday morning I awoke, anxiety still looming, panic moving slowly throughout me, but at least I had a clear head. I gathered my equipment, my food, and prepared for an errand I needed to run prior to leaving. In the middle of packing and preparing a text came through from a dear friend: call me. My heart sank and my heart-rate skyrocketed, the panic began swirling faster and I took deep breaths, reminding myself I was safe. I replied with a simple, I will try, but I am not OK right now. A boundary, a piece of self-care, and a reminder to my friend that I had told them I needed space.

As I finished my packing and my errands my mind swirled, no response from my friend. I finally text them again: is everything OK? No response. I began my northwest drive to the trailhead, munching on my breakfast finally deciding that I will call when I finish eating. I knew I could ignore them, but my mind was swirling and spinning and I'd be thinking about it so I knew the best course was to deal with it head on. My phone rang and it was my friend. Nothing was wrong, but the conversation did not go well. We argued, picked at each other, and eventually I had to say I'm not OK, I'm not having this conversation right now, we can continue it when we're both in a better place. On I drove, music off and on, GPS guiding me.

I picked up my pack, loaded it on and headed south on the Appalachian Trail towards Duncannon, determined to close out another section. I was completing a section I had been avoiding because of a road walk. I headed down the mountain, across the Susquehanna, through the town, and then back up a new mountain. There I set-up camp at Hawk Rock, a lovely little outcropping with an incredible view of the river and land. I knew I needed to ground myself more, so instinctively I decided to cowboy camp (sleep on the ground without my tent). I was nervous, but felt safe and gave myself permission to setup my tent at any point in the night. The locals and I enjoyed a beautiful sunset and I drifted off to sleep shortly thereafter. A porcupine awoke me around 4am, and the sunlight woke me around 5, with the locals coming in around 6 to watch the sunrise. It was the first morning I woke up without anxiety looming and panic lingering. My head the clearest it had been in days. Sunrise, breakfast in bed, and then I was up and off to retrace my steps, now headed north to close out more miles in this Pennsylvania section.

A long 16+ mile day of hiking, but slow. I ambled about, not caring about time, just letting my body be and my mind wander. There were daydreams, there were prayers, there was quiet. There were other hikers that I passed and chatted with, whereas the day before I kept to myself, barely talking to anyone. I could feel myself coming back into me, coming back into my body, my soul grounding within me. On one particular section I fell into such a rhythm that I fairly forgot I was in Pennsylvania as my mind had drifted to other places. As the day progressed and I spoke with more people I felt more and more comfortable. I set-up camp at the shelter, my tent my home for the night. I ate my dinner among other hikers and attempted to chat with them, but the fatigue of the day and the previous days had caught up and I quickly excused myself. 

Tucked away in my tent I found myself again. The social interactions in passing in the day had been just enough, but dinner had been beyond my limits. A thru-hiker set his tent up across from mind and we conversed through our tents. I felt safe in my tent, away from him, but enjoyed the social interaction. It was a small gift given to me. That night I needed the security of my tent, just the same way I needed to sleep in the open the night before. This long anxiety and panic attack at least had me listening intuitively to my body and my needs in a new way. When your nervous system has been on overdrive for days filtering information becomes challenging and this time in the quiet of nature with the healing power of movement I was finding that connection between myself and my needs.

Monday morning I awoke, rested and connected. Grounded. Calm. No anxiety, no panic, just me. It was another gift. One I gave myself, one I spent the weekend working towards.

As I hiked back to my car all I could think was "I went backpacking"

Hawk Rock Sunset

30 Days of Thanks: November 13, 2020

Do you have a passion project?

I do. In January I joined the American Perimeter Trail Project, a leap of faith on my part. I took on the self-proclaimed role of coordinator I had no idea what exactly I would be doing, but I knew in my heart, in my body, that it was what I meant to do. Shortly after beginning my role I found myself wrapped up in this project in ways I could have never imagined. What began as a simple way to help someone else complete a crazy dream, quickly became my passion project as well. Over the past 10.5 months of being intimately involved with this I have found my footing, my stability and a beautiful community that feeds my heart.

I have watched this community step up, every single time we have needed them. From purchasing food, supplies, sending money, providing lodging and transportation, this community has become a family. I have never witnessed something quite like what they have done, many of them pouring out generosity for a total stranger, entrusting me with supplies to keep Rue hiking and safe. For months there were packages delivered to me for him, each box containing a bit of magic, a lot of love and reminding me what it's like to be a kid on Christmas morning. I opened each box, never knowing what it might contain, often holding back tears of gratitude. How beautiful is their love for him, for the project. I often struggle to adequately describe the impact this passion project has had not only on me, but my children as well.

I never imagined that they would participate in the way that they have, nor find the love for it that I have. What a gift I have been given. There is a complicated series of events that led me to this project, ones that were incredibly painful and ones that were full of beauty. As I experienced each one, especially the painful ones I had no idea that I would be where I am now. If you had told me a year ago I'd have large tubs of food and supplies for a hiker in Oregon taking up my garage I'd have laughed. If you had told me that I would find my feet, my grounding, my place, in a community that I helped grow, and along the way my best friend I would have shook my head at you and said that you must have me confused with someone else. 

My passion project is a blessing, something I give thanks for every night. I am thankful for the path that lead me here and the courage I had to say yes. I said yes, jumping fully into the unknown, and I thank God daily for that. Today is no exception, and while I am in the midst of a painful experience I am trying to reflect that often these experiences lead to beautiful opportunities. I am thankful, grateful, and blessed to have this project, this community and these experiences. They are a light, and they help me be a light.

30 Days of Thanks: November 6-9, 2020

This past weekend I had the opportunity to hike 30 miles of the Appalachian Trail in Pennsylvania with a new hiking partner. A woman I had met through social media, but never in person; a woman in many ways very different from me, but passionate about the outdoors and a love of hiking. There is much to be grateful for over these days that I was not writing.

Friday, November 6th I was thankful for the flexibility and privilege in my job to work a half day to leave early for my adventure. Not everyone has paid time off, or a manager who is gracious, flexible and understanding when you want to leave early so you can hike. I understand that I have these privileges, and it is a blessing.

Saturday, November 7th oh what a day. The weather was cool at the start and warmed quickly. My morning brightened by a text from S on the status of the election. How wonderful to be greeted with a text from a 13 year old. It is not something I would have likely done at her age. What a blessing she is in my life. My hiking partner and I covered 13 miles or so in the sunlight and then in the dark, lit by the light of her headlamp. What a day, we filtered water from a ground spring, hiked in a forest with the leaves crunching under our feet and rocks galore. We carried what we needed on our backs and the land provided the water. It was a beautiful experience. I am thankful for the strength in my body to hike.

Sunday, November 8th we had 14.2 miles to cover in a limited amount of time. It was hot, 37 degrees as we started our day at 8:15am and the temperature rose to 73 degrees by midday. The sun was shining and it was beautiful, but no clouds and no wind made for a hot November hike. The trail was relatively flat along the ridgetop, but rocky as always, water was scarce. On that day a trail angel provided water while at a road crossing, as well as companionable conversation. I became tired, frustrated at our schedule and progress as I watched us fall further behind. I had a deadline and it became very apparent in the early afternoon that we would not be making the time deadline. I am thankful for the grace that was granted to me to be gracious to my hiking partner. I knew that being angry and frustrated with her would not improve the situation, I knew that she was trying her best, and that her body was not cooperating as she wanted. so, instead of giving into those feelings I chose to extend grace. I am thankful that I chose grace. It was not that long ago that I would not have chosen to bestow that much grace, but I was able to let it go during the hike. I let myself vent at the end when we were all done and she was gone, but I was proud of my behavior.

On that Sunday I am also thankful for a ex-husband who also granted me grace for my incredibly late arrival. It was not that long ago that a lateness would have garnered anger and resentment, but with improved communication skills and my own healing journey it was a smooth transition.

In addition to the ex, I'm thankful for a friend who, on their birthday, drove food over to my that night for dinner. There I was, smelly, dirty, exhausted, and hungry and he arrived with 2 plates of food and cake. He stayed to keep me company while I ate and we celebrated with cake and beer.

Monday, November 9 I awoke home and clean in my own bed. A house, a roof over my head, running water, electricity, and options, glorious options of food. Such a contrast to the past 2 days of carrying all of my needs, yet both bring me love. Hiking provides me with peace that carries into my home life no other activity has ever done previously. I awoke thankful for the adventure, the opportunity to have the adventure and the courage to take and enjoy the adventure. 

Hiking is not always about the hike itself; it's the lessons I learn about myself along the miles and the emotional growth that I allow. I am thankful for the guidance that I have received from friends, family, and a fabulous therapist over the past few years that have awarded me with the courage to explore these adventures with a more open heart. Peace and grace to you all.

Heart

One month ago, on June 2, I dropped my best friend off in a Kroger parking lot in West Virginia to take the next steps to completing a crazy goal. I drove off in tears, consumed with grief at leaving behind my best friend. Driving the 4.5 hours home intermittently crying tears of grief, sadness, frustration and joy. Yes, joy. For you see when I had driven earlier that week to pick up my friend he wasn't my best friend, certainly fairly close, but those few days together, solidified everything and we were suddenly best friends. Despite the tears of grief, those tears of joy existed amongst them. I was happy to have an amazing friendship, one that challenged me, supported me and one in which I was safe, secure and loved. There was grief at leaving him, knowing that it would be months of grueling work on his part to complete this goal; grief at the short time we had together; fear of the unknown, for hiking does involve danger and we have already had enough dangerous encounters these past few months. 

When I volunteered to assist Rue McKenrick with the American Perimeter Trail project I distinctly remember sending him a message that I sincerely hoped that we would be friends as well as business partners. Little did either of us know that we would quickly become friends and in a few short months develop a deep bond of friendship and gain a lifetime best friend. He and I have had a whirlwind of 6 months, from nearly running out of money, hiking through the initial wave of Covid-19, to creating a logo, storefront and building a community; it has been beautiful and chaotic. We juggle the business aspect of the Trail and our friendship, often switching mid-conversation from business to personal and back to business. While it is highly unconventional it works for us. This is no ordinary business or project. This is a project that requires heart, faith and love. You can't connect people to the land and the land to communities without heart.

Heart, it's something I haven't spoken about much here lately. My heart is fully vested into this project, and in committing myself to something larger than me I find my heart opening in new ways. It's challenged me, challenged the experiences I have had over the past 20 years, and I find new pieces of myself frequently. It's been a beautiful gift that I have been given, though not without painful growth. In volunteering for this project I could have never imagined what I would be doing, where I would grow and how it would change me. I know that this project is not temporary, but a lifelong commitment. It fuels my personal goal to living a life less ordinary; teaching my children to chase dreams and that a cookie-cutter life is not the only option. This project and this beautiful friendship are a blessing and a gift, not only for me, but for them as well. I can reflect back over these past 6 months and see immense changes in myself, and it all stems from the changes in my heart. One of the best surprises of the heart has been to observe my children's hearts. I listen to them reflect on how Rue is doing hiking; is he safe? does he have enough food, money? It's statements like tonight that are made at bedtime, "have you spoken with Rue? Is he ok tonight?" that strike my heart and allow me glimpses into the hearts of my children. 

As I open more, they open more. There is less fear, less uncertainty and a more stable, loving life. As they watch me jump in and dedicate my time, heart and energy to this, they follow of their own accord, but also open their own hearts as well. In those moments it brings me tears of joy and disbelief. As a parent you often hope that your children have the ability to act beyond themselves; within this project and my relationship with Rue, I have I have been able to observe their hearts, actions and intentions. I am beyond grateful for those glimpses. So, as I drove away I cried for myself, for my children and for him; for it was not just a leaving of a best friend, but of a piece of myself. Our meeting had been 5 months in the making, and it's another 4 months to the next. I'll see you in Bend Rue.

Rue and I before the drop-off

Dream Chasing

As some of you might be aware Leilah Grace is at it again.

This time she has partnered with Rue McKenrick, an amazing man designing, creating and hiking America's newest long trail, the American Perimeter Trail. As you all know I don't believe that people come into our lives randomly, but that each individual has a purpose. After a few conversations and a phone call I knew within me that I was being called to help this man. He has big dreams and is chasing a seemingly impossible goal, all the while doing it without consistent support. I have been lucky enough in my life to have the support I needed while I was out chasing my big crazy dreams and goals. This opportunity isn't about paying it back, but about doing what is right and supporting someone in their journey.

In the short time of this partnership I find myself glowing, happy and passionate about something; filled with a fire that hasn't been there in a while. I have a sense of belonging, a purpose. This project is forever bouncing around in my head, so much that I carry a notebook for when inspiration strikes. There is no dread, no fear, just excitement at the opportunities and promises it holds. While I help Rue I am finding my own fire and drive to chase my impossible sounding dreams again. Last year I made a connection that reminded me to dream and strive, but 2020 brings a fire and intensity that is unparalleled. 

Off we go into 2020 creating a life less ordinary.

30 Days of Thanks: Day 21

Maybe it's a silly thing, but I'm thankful for all of the people that have encouraged my writing. I started this blog years ago when everyone kept asking how I managed it all: going to school, having babies and having a life. It's now become my personal outward journal to all of you. My goal of this blog is to share my stories in hopes that someone can relate to one of them, and know that regardless of the issue someone has been through something similar. I will not hide in shame or continually put up a false front. I did that for years and it dang near killed me. You can even see it in the history of the blog, where I stopped writing. It was too challenging to sit and write down, and I would have not been honest. So for all of you who encouraged my writing, and still do I thank you.

That being said you can follow the adventures of Leilah Grace here, and in a new spot. Check her out here on All Women All Trails. It was with your support that I even applied to write for this great site.