5,000,000 Steps

It is 1986, a fall morning slides through Turner’s Gap. I am standing before a smoldering campfire, dunking a bag of black Pekoe tea into a black and blue, plastic Nationwide Insurance coffee mug full of hot water. Breakfast would be a Pop Tart (of course) and a cup of tea. Yesterday, Brian, Jenny, and I had hiked fourteen miles to this Rocky Run campsite from Smithsburg, one of the best Saturdays—hell, one of the best any days I had that whole year. It’s my senior year of high school, and I am with two of the best friends I thought I might ever have. That morning, as we stood around in the growing sunshine, considering those things that high school seniors consider while drinking tea in western Maryland, an idea hatched itself in my adolescent mind. I turned to Brian, at that point in my life the Butch to my Sundance, and said, “Big guy, we should hike this whole trail sometime.”

And then twenty-eight years went by.

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Each year, in my professional life, I am required to set goals. As part of my appraisal, I set two goals each August that help me to focus my energies on improving as a classroom teacher, as a colleague, and/or as a professional. I might set a goal to make more positive parent contacts; I might set a goal to use technology in more creative ways in my classroom; I might set a goal of increasing the achievement of a particular subset of my students. Each year it is different, but it is usually based on district initiatives or aligned with my building’s goals. In some ways it may seem like bureaucratic hoop jumping, but I usually find it a worthwhile endeavor that helps me stay on track. With all of the issues swirling around education, today, it is easy to get caught up in the whirlwind and lose focus on the matters at hand. Goal setting keeps me focused.

In my personal life, I am not much of a goal setter. Never have been. Sometimes, however, there are things in life that seem worth aiming for. Earlier this year, I wrote about a few guideposts that I wanted to set for myself. I have managed to keep my eyes on the prize in a few cases and, thus far, failed miserably on others. Recently, I voiced a desire to accomplish something that has been in the back of my mind for thirty years, perhaps.

On that fateful hike wherein Meghan and I took an unanticipated swim, I mentioned to Meghan that I was really thinking about thru-hiking the Appalachian Trail. In my contemplating, I decided that the best time to do that was when I turned fifty.  Why fifty? The easy answer is “Why not?” But, in reality, after not really making a fuss out of any of the ”milestone” birthdays I have had, it seems like fifty needs to be made some kind of deal of. Not to mention, how bad-ass would it be to walk 2000 miles during my quinquagenary?

So that gives me five years to research and prepare to meet this goal. Since we have returned from Colorado, I have been poring over a couple of books, a 2014 Thru-Hikers’ Companion and a memoir of a woman’s post collegiate trek from Georgia to Maine in 2005, Becoming Odyssa. The research has begun. I have also gotten back into running a little bit. After all, it is really impossible to recreate walking 30 miles a day, but running and walking are somewhere to start.

As with all ideas and goals, some are good and some are bad, some are met and some not. At this point, I don’t know which kind of idea this is, I don’t know if this is an achievable goal. I do know that after considering this endeavor since I was a teenager, I have resolved that if I just leave it in the realm of ideas, it will never happen. And sometimes, the best way to motivate myself to do something is to put it out there, sort of back myself into a proverbial corner by saying I will do something. After that, I leave myself no choice but to do it, right? I have lived with myself long enough to know that, otherwise, the odds are firmly against a thing getting done.

Still, there are a host of things that still need to be considered further in the future. In order to thru-hike, I would need about four to six months (I like to think I could do it in four, but, let’s say it takes longer). That would require me to take some time off of work. Traditionally, one would start hiking in Georgia sometime after March 1, and follow the spring north.  Obviously, that means I would have to miss at least fourth quarter. Furthermore, there is a significant (but currently unknown) financial outlay to outfit a 2000-mile overland expedition. Also, what on earth would Meghan do without me for that long? There: simply a trio of the myriad questions that I am currently researching and contemplating.

My preliminary assertion: in 2019, I will thru-hike the Appalachian Trail.

Oh, my: now, it’s said. It is, as Meghan would say, “out in the Universe.” All journeys begin with one step, right? Let’s consider this the first step in a journey that, with luck, will, planning, and nerve will take me five million more. I have set a goal. Or, more precisely, I have re-set a goal. Like Sundance once said, “Wherever the hell Bolivia is, that’s where we’re off to.”