Some things I never imagined I would think about in my life are very clear to me now that I’m off the trail. For example, my mind was absolutely blown when I arrived a LGA airport in Queens, NY only 1.5 hours after leaving from ATL Georgia. I knew that’s how long the flight would be, but it took me about 4 months to walk that same distance at about 2mph and it took me many more days to process that plane ride.
Once home and driving around in my car, I notice my depth perception is completely enhanced. I can look a ways away and know- that’s about .2 miles away, less than ten minutes of walking. I’d blink my eyes and already be at the end of the block with my car. I used to think that GPS app Waze was giving me directions too close to the actual turn, but now that I can thoroughly understand how long it takes to physically move .1 miles by foot, I don’t think that Waze is cutting it as close. My attention to these details are forever altered.
My brain is now constantly in calculation mode. Although, a month back into society and this trait is slowly and sadly fading. I’ll take that as a sign to commit to another thru hike…
I have certainly been grieving my hike of the Appalachian Trail. My doom scrolling is suddenly interrupted by the urge to look at the clock. A half an hour has gone by since my last glance and I’m forced to acknowledge what I’m missing. On a hiking day I would have walked at least a mile in those 30 minutes, now the only things being exercised are my two thumbs and intrusive thoughts. I blink again and the clock has stuck noon. I could have walked 10 miles to Brooklyn by now.
After over 6 months on trail, I reflect on some old lifestyle choices I made in the late 20teens. At one point, I really believed that participating in the expensive, cut throat rat race of NYC validated me as productive member of society. As I submit to the circumstances of being back in my hometown, I tune into the sounds of my current environment. My peripheral hearing has traded the crunching leaves of squirrels and deer hopping through the trees, for a sea of tires as they glide along the highway. The occasional high pitch of an airplane overhead is in a bidding war with my tinnitus for the sound real estate of my eardrums.
On one hand I’m comforted, on the other, I’m activated. Having lived most of my life with the humming highway as my lullaby, I’m overwhelmed by the thought of some of my old experiences. My inter-borough, 5 day a week, rush hour commute was so draining, and so wasteful. It took me way too long to recognize the signs of having a mental breakdown and I went completely off the deep end before finally making moves towards a more unconventional lifestyle that made sense for me. It’s intense observing my once-way-of-life again. I’m long past this concept of reality, and more importantly, relieved not being a part of it.
That being said, it took me over 1,000 miles to truly embrace some aspects of the trail. I was definitely conditioned for the city. Now it’s taking equally long to get “back to normal,” but the truth is, I don’t want to and I probably never 100% will. Getting used to the trail looked like letting go enough to finally start shooting snot rockets and wiping the excess on my sleeves. Can you imagine this?
Truth be told, I didn’t have a choice. Between dealing with a break up and the season’s changing, my nose was full of mucus. During a post Shenandoah shakedown, I opted to rid myself of my beloved handkerchief. I wanted to drop the weight of the item but couldn’t conceive how I would exist without using it. My section hiking friend Joel explained that the classic and feral method of snot rocket to sleeve was the most obvious and normal choice. I was taken back by this suggestion but once I was back on trail on my own again, I admittedly gave it a try. Once I started, I couldn’t stop. Snot rockets became part of the first mile’s daily morning routine.
Getting back into the city, blowing my nose again was the culture shock I never thought I’d experience. Socially, I couldn’t snot rocket any more and now I had to re-learn my tissue etiquette. Heartbreaking.
Nose maintenance wasn’t the only bodily function that took some getting used to. There were a few other things to manage, but for now I’ll stick to number one and number two…
Number one… being back on the grid, I can’t just pull over the moment I need to pee. I need to do a lot more work than finding a spot no one can see and pulling my pants down to find relief. Now, I need to really know that I need to go at least 5 minutes before actually going. There’s so many more steps in civilization! I need to recognize in my body earlier than before, then I need to realize where I am and ask myself a specific line of questioning: Is there a bathroom nearby? How long will it take to get there? Is it in use? is there a line? How long might I need to wait? This process can be anywhere from 5-30 minutes if I’m finding a public restroom. Exhausting, coming from the freedom of 5-30 seconds of management.
And then there’s number two… a lot of the same issues as listed above. But man- adjusting back to the toilet seat from deep squatting in nature is really, for lack of better terms, shitty. Almost no bathrooms have the squatty potty, bidet, or the height of toilet seat that you need. Who knew I’d be thinking about this at all when I first began the trail?
At first I was taking a lot of time to find my spot, making sure it deep enough into the woods that no one could see me. I found myself waiting in a squat for a minute before comfortable enough to let it go. Eventually I was able to recognize in my body when I needed to go, like, *right now.* I’d quickly scope out a spot off trail and in a matter of seconds, I’ve looked both ways, the cat hole’s dug, pants are down, squat positioned, poo released, tush wiped, pants up, hole covered, stick in place, sanitizer on, and back to my hike.
Only once I got back to the land of distraction did I remember the bathroom isn’t just for number one and two. For many people it’s a much needed, deeply personal break away from work, kids, spouse, etc. A moment to breathe…. and also to catch up on texts and emails and read blogs. Before you know it you’ve been in the bathroom at least 5 minutes and you forgot you were even attempting to poop. Come on, don’t act like you’re not guilty of this. For all I know, you might be reading this on the pot right now!