Damascus

We rolled into Damascus about 3 days ago, the quarter of the way point on the trail. 466.6 miles. When we got in it was raining and the tendons in my left foot were a mess. I took the doctors orders and rested for 3 days, spending time and cooking up a storm with old friends - Beetlejuice, Pierogi, Molly, Avocado, Rocket, The Tribe, you name it. It was bliss to see everyone again.

I packed up this morning to hike out and my foot instantly felt as if I had done nothing to repair it. I couldn't walk with my foot facing straight with no pack weight much less with 30+ pounds of freshly resupplied pack. It's time to take this seriously and recover.

I'm devastated. So many times I have thought about getting off the trail and now that I actually have to I can't stop crying. All I want more than anything is to walk. To be out there with my hiking family, stumbling over roots, cursing the ground we are walking on, laughing about the shenanigans from the night before, accidentally stepping in streams, cooking up pasta sides while huddled around a fire. I would do anything to have my body feel better so I can just keep going.

I am going to recover. And then I will come back. I'm in the grips of this amazing adventure with these incredible people and I'm not stopping till I make it all the way to Maine. No pain, no rain, no Maine.

Much love.