A time to heal and a time to redeem. Miles hiked: only time will tell

It’s been a really long, hard year. I’ve worked fulltime as a night shift CNA and balanced a fulltime academic load as a Masters of Public Health student. I’ve said goodbye to two grandparents and a close friend’s spouse, some dogs and cats, and seen all of my medical school friends graduate and start their residencies far far away. I’ve laughed with my neighbors in the Melting Pot, but also sat with them in their pain, addictions and struggles while experiencing homelessness in Appalachia and the injustices that come with it. I’m continually navigating the helpless rage that comes with watching my own rights and those of communities that I care about be struck down one by one. I’ve spent far more time indoors than out, and my soul has atrophied under the fluorescent lights of the hospital while I’ve had far too few nights under the stars. I’ve continued to cope with the fallout of the traumatic end to my hike last summer, and it has felt far from redemptive. The trail is supposed to be a place of deep rest and a home for me, but I’ve felt like an unwelcome guest each time I’ve tried to venture out since that awful night in the Steamboat Springs KOA. 

The sun has peeked through the clouds and the spring has been better as I’ve gone back to clinical patient care (that I love) and finally seal- launched my boat back into the river, but I’d still call it an unexpectedly challenging season.

I don’t regret my decision to come home, as I still know it was the only real choice I had. If anything, I’m proud that I had the courage to use my agency and save Blueberry (my most free and integrated form); although fully capable

of doing so, walking all the way to Canada last summer would have signaled the absorption and acceptance of the heartbreakingly painful words I heard from my inner circle in the Leadville Safeway parking lot. 

I am not “too much” for the trail (I guess I was “too much” for folks I loved dearly and still miss dearly), but I am full of life and passion and courageous honesty; life and passion and courageous honesty that I hope positively impacts the world over my lifetime. 

My feelings are valid. Everyone’s feelings are valid. Learning to not only say that, but embody and apply it everywhere from clinic to trail is easier said than done, but far be it from me to set out on a 3k mile pilgrimage and expect to shed no tears. I will cry tears of joy and pain and hey, maybe I’ll help out the drought. 

Suffering is sacred. I can do hard things, and they don’t have to be easy or fun to be sacred. Thruhiking is sacred because the suffering I have the joy and privilege of choosing is sacred. It is where I walk with the Lord. It is when I get to embrace a belly laugh when I fall and get a bloody knee at the end of a massive mileage day. It is where I meditate on my own vapor of a life, dust to dust, and fill my storehouse with peace and joy and connection to Creation.

And of course, rolling into town and consuming a 3 course meal of burritos/Oreos and living in some of the most remote and beautiful spaces in America is also a heck of a lot of fun! 

June 24, 2022 was the end of one season of my triple crown. But July 30, 2023 is the beginning of a new season. Blueberry is headed back to the CDT to finish what she started.

I’m an MS4 now, and have put in the hard work to complete my critical rotations and board exams early. While taking some remote classes, I’m headed back to trail. I have 46 days and just under 1500 miles. While completion of the CDT would be a dream come true, my mission is simple: find my way home to the rhythm of my footsteps, hope of wildflowers and sweet joy of wild berries, and peace cultivated through sacred suffering.
Happy trails!