Not all who wander are lost...and not all who are lost wonder.
Tolkien was right in that wandering does not make us lost, not physical, mentally, or spiritually. You might be asking yourself about the addition to the line-- it's mine (cocky, I know). Today, right now, it has meaning to me, in that just because you are lost doesn't mean you should not wonder. To wonder, to ponder, to think, to question. I needed to wander the physical space, to wonder in my mind, and to be lost in the action of both. I needed to run from my chaos as much as I needed to run to it.
Now before I go further I know what you will say. You will tell me that this mental and physical chaos, this need to be lost is simply a side effect of aging, of turning 40. Sure any birthday with a zero is a big one, so I won't disagree with you. But I will tell you that over 40 years and 40 miles, this being lost and found in the chaos and order was much more than aging.
I wish this story started with "In a far away land.." and ended with "Happily ever after." Perhaps it does...
In a far away land, known as my mind, I decided that I needed a break, a moment to breathe, a pause in what was around me so I could figure out what was inside of me, and where all the pieces of me were going. As it turned out being stuck in the quicksand of life happened for me just shy of my 40th birthday. This timing led to a pinpointed and purposeful moment in time to do something stupid. I decided that for my 40th birthday I would take a walkabout, for 40 miles. Just walk, just wander, just be a little lost, just to wonder. 40 miles, (mostly) on the trials, on the 28th of January.
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I would like to tell you that it all went easy-peasy, but I don't want to lie. At 4am, Patrick allowed me to drag him out of bed to start walking. It was dark, it was windy, it was cold... it was actually freezing!! I made the mistake of thinking that since I had run in the mountains in little clothing that I could do that on this morning. I was wrong, oh so very very worng! This was my first life lesson of the day-- sometimes you are wrong and too stubborn to admit it! Off we went in no layers into the trails. After about two and half miles I was shivering so hard that my legs struggled to keep a pace. Patrick, ever the constant support, kindly offered his jacket to me. The problem was I knew from past experiences that my body was not in a good place and would not be saved by his jacket, no matter how much loving warmth came with it. So instead of walking 10 miles and checking in as planned, I headed towards home.
To say I was angry with myself at this moment would be what ever comes after "the understatement of a lifetime". I was pissed off at myself, I was ready to punch a tree, and I was spinning in the dark feeling lost. In this moment you might think that the right thing for Patrick to have done was to grab me by the arm and drag me in the correct direction home. You would be wrong. Whether he knew it or not he did the most rightest thing, he stood still and waited. Now his reason for this may not have been to help me overcome feeling lost. He may not have intended for it to be a lesson in listening to the silence. He may not have thought that looking back I would find this moment spoke in a voice so loud it would cut out the sounds in my own mind. I would say in the moment, and until he reads this, he had no idea that I needed his silence more than I needed him to drag me along the way. But that's life right, sometimes in the darkness we need those next to us, those who support us, those who guide us, those who speak to us, to stand still and silent, allowing us to find our way home. 5.79 miles.
Well, I found my way out of the woods and back home; stomping all the way, heated with anger but not warmed. I threw off my clothes curled up on the bed, threw two blankets over myself, and mumbled curses in my frustration as I shivered. After a bit I tried again to put on a few layers and go outside but the moment the cold air hit me it was like I had never warmed up. After a few minutes of letting me stew in my frustration, Patrick again saved me from myself (I guess that's what our spouse do every now and again). He told me, didn't ask me, to put on tights, to get my fleece cover up, and to get back out there (there may have been some extra words). It wasn't received as a choice to be made, it wasn't an option, nor was it a threat. It was simply to be done. With shaking hands, now covered in Patrick's thick fleece gloves, I stood outside again. I pushed the go button on my watch and I walked. 5.80 miles.
The first part of the second walkabout outing was reflective of the first part. I went back to the trail that had sent me home. There I walked. I walked as the first light hit and the sun followed. I listened as the world around me woke up-- cars taking ready people to work, squirrels taking leaps of faith, birds calling out to see who might answer. In the first 10 miles I covered the orange trail. The walk would seem uneventful, but when I came to the point that I had turned around before, I found strength to finish what was laid out ahead of me (I didn't know how often in the day my body and mind would challenge this strength). In this first part of the walkabout I thought about my childhood and the things that I carry with me today. Those traits that formed who I am. My mother would always tell me that I was so my father's child (mostly when my stubbornness turned to her frustration). But as I walked I hoped that my mother knows I was her child, in those stubborn times, as well as in those moment when I found compassion for others or passion for helping others to heal. I thought about how my father taught me to believe that hard work and determination (because he would never call it stubbornness) are nothing without grace. And then my brother popped into mind and I hoped that he knows that through him I learned what friendship could be; I learned that growing up meant challenging the world, even if the world didn't understand (turns out we are all stubborn). For 10 miles I thought of all the people that I learned from in my childhood, all the lessons I learned, and how all of it good and bad makes the good and bad of who I am. 15.79 miles.
Yep, it gets deep people. That's why it's called a walkabout!!
To me my life has been found through getting lost. For a few miles I moved where my mind took me. I took cut throughs and looped back on myself. Why? In my favorite answer- Because. 18.11 miles.
At about this point I started to get hungry (yes I had food with me, that I already ate). I decided to make my way to the gas station, which meant leaving the woods. I knew roughly where I needed to be going. And by roughly I mean that I knew which direction but had no clue which trail I needed to actually be on. Here came a reflective moment that made me laugh standing in the middle of a field with popping electrical wires above my head. I got to thinking how often in life we know where we want to be but we have no idea how to get there. Hell, I think I may be in this moment of life right now!! If walkabouts have moments of clarity in the chaos this was one of them for me. This was the moment of admitting to myself that I know where I am in life and I have an idea of where I want to go but the journey there is not clear yet. Yet! I can look at my map from my walkabout and know where I should have turned but in that moment I only knew that I was hungry, I needed nutrient (well, powdered donuts), and I knew where I had to end up. So onward and upward I went, knowing that I was headed in the right direction because I took the first step out of that field and in life. 22.26 miles.
This part I am going to tell you because you need to know that when you go on a walkabout, no one else get's it. The proof of this is walking into the gas station. I am all geared up (please see the photos). I am walking around the store knowing the only thing I WANT is powdered donuts. But I KNOW I need to get something more than powdered donuts. In this moment it is both my mother's and my husband's voices I hear in my head. "You think that's a good choice?" Well no I don't think getting five packs of powdered donuts is a "good" choice but it is REALLY a choice I WANT to make. Even without them being there their guidance leads me to getting pickles, crackers, and powdered donuts (because, damn it, just because). Now the fun part is going up to the counter, my face fully covered, in walking gear, with my hydration hose flapping, and placing on the counter crackers, pickles, and powdered donuts. I am pretty sure the woman would have backed away slowly if she could have. She asks me if this is everything; to which I nearly respond that "no it isn't because I left four packages of powdered donuts on the shelf because the voices in my head questioned my actions." I said none of this, thanked her, and took my bag of goodies on the road with me. No one get's your walkabout like you. 22.30 miles.
From here I walked a different trail, not going back to where I had come from. On this trail, a trail only a little over a mile long, it hit me for the first time that I was done. I wanted to quit. It was no longer fun. Even the powdered donuts no longer comforted me. I wasn't hurting. Sure my knee was tight and my hips were nagging, but I wasn't hurting. What I was, was emotionally drained. This I was not expecting. I have run, biked, swam distances, I thought going on a walk would be no problem. The difference was I had told myself this was not a walk, it was a walkabout. To me that change made it more than physical, it was a break from the daily habits and a time to reflect, to assess. This was not a walk in the woods it was a chance to wander and wonder in my lostness. Here my depression from the morning's near failure and anxiety of recent events in my life hit. They hit hard. Here in the woods the tears started and I wanted to quit. I wanted to tell Patrick to ask no questions and just come get me. I wanted to go back home, back under my blankets. I wanted it to all just stop. My legs slowed as my breathing quickened. I had stopped moving but my mind was running through a minefield of emotions. In this moment I text Patrick, "I am never going to be done." He text me back, "Yes you will. Keep going. One step at a time." I sobbed. And then I took one step at a time, just like he told me. Just like he always tells me. 25.13 miles.
I walked from one set of woods to the other, now ready to take on the next 15 miles. Once back in the woods I took a trail that I know one thing for sure about, when I think I am suppose to turn, I should really keep going. This was a life lesson that time and time again I have to remind myself of-- sometimes I should listen and pay attention to what is said (oh, and actually do it). You see I have gotten myself lost on this trail before by taking a turn too soon, assuming that I was doing it right. This ended in a wet car, soaked shoes, and an angry husband who thought I was lost to the wolves (and may have been hopeful that the wolves keep me). This memory (which happened not too long ago during a tropical storm) flooded back to me as I walked the trail. Just keep going, even if there are obstacles (like trees) in your way. 26.42 miles.
You are thinking the same thing as me at this point-- is this ever going to end!! The answer is yes it will, but not right now. I will fast forward a few miles. At this point my legs hurt and hips hurt and at the ball of my right foot there feels like there is a pebble, that I know from experience is going to in fact not be a pebble. I found peace walking over a little creek- me and water have a much better relationship than me and land. I made a small uphill climb and a slight turn to the left and BAM!!! This would be the only time I tripped and fell, which if you know me and my relationship with trails this is an amazing feat. The ground came fast and hard, as did the meltdown. I hit my knees, my left shoulder, and my forehead (thankfully the knee and shoulder hits took down the rate at which my forehead hit the ground). My peace was abruptly ended. Once on the ground and fully stopped, I didn't leap up. I didn't roll over onto my back. I didn't even make an effort to check for blood. I laid there with my forehead on the ground. HARD STOP for sure. With tears running down my face, I finally looked down towards my feet to see what tripped me up. I was hoping to find a root that was big and loopy. Instead what I found was a little root that bumped up out of the ground about an inch high. Son of a... I would love to say the tears turned to laughter but both sort of happened at the same time, sounding closer to a wild animal from another planet. This moment was a reminder that life trips you up on the littlest of things. You can fall and HARD STOP. You can cry. Then you stand up, take a deep breath, wipe the dirt off your forehead and move forward. 28.something miles.
I made it out of the woods with a dying cell phone and worse a dying watch. For those of your who are not stats crazy athletes out there, one's watch dying on a long event is as bad as never getting out of bed and going in the first place. It's not good!! As it frequently happens in my life I text my rock, Patrick. he meets me along the way with chargers and a battery pack. The only reason this is not pictured is because my brain was tired. What I will share is it was making me laugh for the next several miles. I looked cybertronic. 31.87 miles.
From here I was staying on the roads, no more woods. I guess I felt I needed to connect back with people too at some point. Well, that and I was starting to think that when mile 40 hit I really wanted to be close to home. I first walked a neighborhood that wasn't ours. For some reason it felt like I was still too far from home. I made my way into our neighborhood knowing I would have to pass the house a few times and knowing that I was close but far from done. The last five miles I felt the blisters on the bottoms of my feet. I felt the swelling in my hands. I felt the tightness in my hips, I felt the soreness in my back, and then...then my phone rang and on the other end my mother sang Happy Birthday to me. And again for the millionth time on my walkabout, I cried. For the next three miles my mom would talk to me with my dad piping up in the background. The two people who were there 40 years ago where there now. How does the universe do that? 40 miles.
Oh you thought it ended-- stay with me.
I hung up with my parents at the walk way to Patrick and mine's home. After 13 hours 9 minutes and 44 seconds, after 40.03 miles, after 2359 feet of climb (vert), after 93,955 steps, I was home. And I heard the one voice and saw the one person who has fills my life with joy everyday. Patrick stood in front of me and said, "Hi." 40.03 miles. 40 years.
I needed a walkabout on my 40th birthday not to cope with turning 40. I needed a walkabout on my 40th birthday to find peace in me. The chaos didn't turn to order. I am still lost. I will forever wander and wonder. I didn't fix the world in 40 miles, I did heal a part of me that needed to remember, that needed to cry, that needed to laugh, that needed to be lost and ok all at the same time.
Here's to many more miles, many more life lessons, and here's to those people in our lives who lift us up and hold us up, I hope I do the same for them.
And they lived happily ever after....well with a few twist and turns, I am sure.
*The number crunch brought to you by Patrick!!!
