Connecticut

There are not many people that I would, without hesitation, take a bullet for  (aside from the obvious family and close friends). But, there are 141 lives that I would have no choice but to protect - my students.

In the wake of the Connecticut tragedies, which happened just over an hour from my home, it had me thinking - could I take a bullet for my students, just like those brave teachers and faculty did? I never thought about it until now, that as part of my job description not listed in the fine print, is to protect each and every one of their precious little lives.

Which reminds me of one scary night I had on the AT, just before I thru hiked. Rocket and I did an overnight, out-and-back hike; it was the week between Christmas and New Years, and, though there was snow on the ground, it was an unseasonably warm night. We were up late into the night chatting in the shelter, giggling like 5 year olds. Without warning, someone popped out in the front of the shelter, shined a light on us, and disappeared swiftly into the night. We never saw the person behind the light, never heard the crunch of snow underfoot, and never saw foot prints the next day. My reaction was to play dead (as per the dumb advice of Rocket) and immediately I buried my head into her shoulder and pretended nothing was happening. My heart raced like a greyhound chasing a fake bunny. To this day, we cannot explain the weird incident.

You're wondering why I'm meshing 2 unrelated things. My point in telling that story is, my typical reaction is to freeze in fear. If ever faced with what those poor Connecticut people endured, I know whole-heartedly I would push fear aside and face up to whatever I had to, to protect those lives. I hope I never, ever, have to face death within the 4 walls of a school, but I know I wouldn't give it a second thought. The children come first.

You're also wondering how this is related to cycling or adventure.

I learned a new acronym recently - YOLO - you only live once. Who knows what life has in store for any of us, so stop dying and start living.

true story

Biking, it is!

This is the time of year that makes me think about thru hiking. At this time 4 years ago, I was preparing for the Appalachian Trail - testing gear, buying gear, shopping for mail drop items, and dreaming about what life would be like on the trail. I can't believe it's been that long since I hiked, and how much living has happened since then.

I often think about hiking another long trail, and I haven't come up with something that tugs at my heartstrings like the AT did. I had this inherent feeling for a long time that told me I had to hike the AT. Will I ever thru hike the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT)? Probably not, but never say never. What about the Continental Divide Trail (CDT)? Doubtful. I think my long distance hiking will be sections well under 2,000 miles.

A gargantuan reason why I don't think I could spend another 6 months in the woods is because the aftermath is ugly, and I don't think I could do that to myself again. Mentally, I was a wreck and it felt like forever before I recovered; post-trail depression hit hard. I was a bitchy pain in the ass to deal with. It's unanimous among thru hikers, there's just no way to ever convey what we go through emotionally, and why we feel the way we do once it's over - it feels like the death of a best friend. For some reason, my TransAm ride didn't emotionally destroy me in the end - maybe because I kept telling myself I couldn't come home an angry mess again. Recently I talked with a friend who hiked the AT last year. He told me he put on his boots that he summited Katahdin in, and immediately cried. I know exactly what he was feeling.

The proudest moment of my life

As much as I yearn for my time on the AT, I will continue to travel via bicycle. I love that it's so accessible and a tour can start right from your front door. I'm not discounting my love of long-distance hiking, I will always have a passion for it, but, well, you get the point.

I think about the TransAm often, and miss the fun that I had, and realize how lucky I was to make such an amazing friend and travel buddy. It's awesome to be able to pick up the phone and say, "Hey, remember the time I pulled over to cry because I was so exhausted, and remember the time we ate brownie sundaes bigger than our heads, or remember the time we had to swing hammers to construct a bed in a teepee, and hey, remember when you went to pedal away and fell in the middle of the street because your tire blew right after we ate lunch at 8 am in that weird restaurant, and took gravel naps, and got chased by that coyote that could have chewed our asses off, and when I taught you how to shit in the woods, and how we used to pretend our loaf of bread had just come out of the oven because the sun was baking it to death on the back of your bike, and, and...?" and giggle as the conversation leads to more current things in our lives. Damn I miss that trip.

Next summer should bring more bicycle adventures, and I have a few ideas brewing. Stay tuned, if anyone is out there still reading my nonsense.

Cheers. Now go have an adventure, 2-wheeled or otherwise.



Photos: A recent section hike on the AT with my thru hiker friends. (Rocket and I hiked the whole trail together, and we befriended Beav somewhere in Virginia). And yes, we call each other ONLY by trail names still.

Angry Beaver, Rocket and me (Storm)