Day 89: The Third Mantra

(Mile 1303.5 to 1327 = 23.5 miles)

:)

So, yesterday was a bit of a hard day emotionally, and on the 13 mile uphill hike out of Belden, I found myself repeating my two trail mantras to myself.  Okay, so there are probably more than two, because in addition to the two I was thinking of, there is, of course, "You're a thru-hiker; it's your job; just do it."

Cows on the trail. Yes, I am still secretly afraid of them. I scampered away after this shot!

The first mantra I was thinking of came from my friend and co-worker (actually the person who is filling in for me while I'm out and about!), Dylan.  I had received unpleasant (though not life threatening) medical news on day 2 of my trip.  When I told Dylan, he said, quite simply, "Walk it off, Dor."  I laughed.  Walk it off.  Like a coach to his/her athlete.  "I will."  And so I have been.  I've been walking off everything.  Gumby and I repeat it to each other all of the time.  Tired?  Walk it off.  Blisters?  Walk 'em off.  Stomach ache?  Walk it off.  Headache, sinus infection?  Walk it off.  Too much town food?  Walk it off.  Want to quit?  Walk it off.  Upset?  Walk it off.  Have something to cry about?  Go for it, and then walk it off.  It's a little tough love and a little funny.  So, yesterday, I told myself to walk it off.

Lassen Peak? Should be there in a day!

The second mantra comes from another co-worker and a mentor of sorts.  Karen and I used to help lead a state-wide training for interpreters in the department.  Karen did a "showtime" session which was, in part, about putting on your game face when you put on your uniform.  The idea was that visitors wanted a pleasant, present park ranger experience.  No matter what you personally may be going through, the visitors deserve your best.  "Nobody cares if your dog just died, your boyfriend broke up with you, and you couldn't find your left boot this morning," she'd say.  "When you decided to put on that uniform and come to work, you decided to put all of that behind you."  I call it the "nobody cares" speech.  I always looked forward to that session of the training.  It was a good reminder no matter how experienced you were.  And so I say on trail, "The Trail doesn't care."  It was Richard Bach I think who wrote about that ... something along the lines of, "Life does not require you to be happy, sad, successful, fair, etc. ... It does, however, require you to live with the consequences."  The same can be said of the Trail.  Yesterday, I reminded myself of this, too.

Ha! We didn't go.

And then I thought for a moment about Dan.  That was trail magic, at just the right time.  And so was the woman in the gray SUV who brought us freshies, cookies, and water.  And what about all of the trail angels?  And then I remembered a line I gave Gumby when she was grumbling that the next town probably wouldn't have her new favorite chips -- Flamin' Hot Lays.  I said, "You've gotta have faith."  And what do you know?  She found her chips.  You've gotta have faith.  It's the lighter, softer mantra, but just as important.  No, the Trail doesn't care.  Yes, you have to just walk it off.  But if you have faith in the greater world and your place in it, the right things often come at just the right time.  This is the faith of my Muir Pass reflections.  Trusting in something larger than ourselves that we don't necessarily have a big hand in. 

And so, I've found my third mantra, and one I need to work the most on.  You've gotta have faith.

Heck, yes!

. . . . . . . .

P.S.  We hit halfway just this evening!  We spent the afternoon recapping our first 1325 miles.  Halfway, and happy, healthy, and ready for the next 1325.  Oregon and Washington, here we come.

Handstands for halfway!