Regardless, we eventually venture out into the rain, and man does it suck. A steady all day downpour. We haven't been in one of these in awhile, and I'm thankful for that. After a few hours I find a shelter and hunker down amongst the other hikers (also seeking shelter) long enough to take my shoes off and let my corpse feet (this is what we call feet that have been submerged in water for far too long) gain back some of their normal color. It's futile, soon eough I'll put my feet back into my wet socks and shoes, but it's nice to let them dry out occasionally.
Whilst this is happening, I notice that three hikers, neatly tucked away in sleeping bags, are watching a movie on an iPad. I spy over one of their shoulders for way too long, trying to absorb some of their warmth and comfort.
But then I head back out into The Endless Rain.
It sucks. But it's okay, because it's nothing we haven't dealt with before.
A few miles away from the shelter Stevie and Cheyanne leave me behind. I'm having some issues and I really, really don't feel well, so I sit on the side of a road for about an hour, trying to figure out what's wrong with me (for the thousandth time) on my phone, desperately googling symptoms, trying all sorts of combinations. It's always the same, it could either be everything (probably cancer though, duh), or nothing at all. Most likely it's somewhere in the middle.
By the time I get up to start hiking again, I'm sure that Cheyanne and Stevie have already made it to the shelter. I'm frustrated. Frustrated by all of this. By not feeling well, by being left behind, by having no fucking idea what's wrong with me. Frustrated with the three hospital visits I've made for the same reason. Frustrated with the money I paid a bunch of professional idiots to tell me what I already know. Frustrated that no one knows what's going on, and yet still I suffer and hike 20 miles a day.
With this in mind, I put on some crunchy tunes and basically take off running. Hatebreed satisfies my mood quite thoroughly and as I stomp down the trail, Jamey Jasta hits me with motivational lines like "perseverance, against all opposition, persevance, crushing all limitations" and "you wanna see me fail, you won't get your chance, you wanna see me fail, you'll never get your chance" and "this is now, how can I change tomorrow if I can't change today, this is now, if I control myself I control my destiny".
I feel like shit. My body is wracked with discomfort and the serpent that lives in my stomach writhes with every jarring step, but I force myself forward, concentrating on the task, on the cadence, on every foot step, and soon enough the pain and aches and discomfort fades to background noise. At some point I start chanting, "I will finish this fucking trail."
"I will finish this fucking trail. I will finish this fucking trail. I will. Finish. This fucking. Trail. I. Will. Finish. This. Fu-. -King. Trail."
I get to the shelter at Little Rock Pond. It's full, duh, it always is when it rains, and I never finish hiking early enough to get a place in one. So I set up my tent, cook food, and don't say a word to anyone. My movements are methodical and it's obvious that I'm in a bad mood. I want to get all of my chores for the morning done tonight, so I head over to the pond to grab some water.
It's dark at this point, and the rain has finally stopped. Toads and frogs leap out of my way as I make my way towards the beach. At the beach there's a canoe and a paddle, and I contemplate getting aboard for a bit, but no, I have to sleep.
I dip my bladder into the water and notice something. There are dozens of crawdads, huge crawdads, and dozens of salamanders (the adult version of the common eft stage newt). They're all swimming around just below the surface, but the water is so clear and my headlamp is so bright that it seems as if they're just... levitating. Gently moving about, a whole community of living things, content in their silence, in their stillness.
I pause.
And then, I just sit there.
Sometimes I forget why I'm out here, and I become wholly, obsessively focused on hiking, on the miles, on the need to finish, and on the pain it's causing me. I busy myself with chores and tasks and goals, and I rarely stop in my singleminded determination.
But sometimes I remember why I'm here. Other times it gets thrown in my face. And tonight the latter happened.
I sit on the beach for an incredibly long time. Watching the green salamanders and the more ambiguously colored crawdads, the minnows, the perch, and the toads, the frogs. I watch them move about in their less busy lives, doing what they always do, showing up after a rain, drawn to the vast amount of water that's seemingly everywhere, being so stereotypical in their ways. And I liked it.
I don't hurt anymore. I don't worry anymore. I go to sleep.
I will be heard.
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