Heading out
In daydreams, packing up and changing my life always seemed so streamlined. Organized luggage, roomy traveling times. A calm departure.
Instead, it’s an off-kilter kaleidoscope of deadlines and decisions, goodbyes and anticipations — all competing for focus and color, with countless bright distractions at the ready.
Amtrak’s Pacific Surfliner is gliding south, carrying me a bit closer to Campo, California, where I’ll begin this 2,650-mile hike to Canada. But that’s tomorrow. Tonight I’ll stay in San Diego, one of a handful of guests camping out on a lawn.
The train’s pace is reassuring after the endless time crunch of the past few weeks. From leaving work to moving out to finalizing my pack, it’s all been a whirl. I’ve fully stepped into a decision that’s been a long time in the making — hiking the entirety of the Pacific Crest Trail.
My pack is a bit heavier than I’d like, even though I’ve trimmed more than average. My body is a bit less prepared than I’d like, too, even though I recently ran my first half marathon. That’s sometimes the way I do things — feeling a bit overwhelmed, feeling a bit last minute, throwing myself into something that would seem more daunting if I stopped to really think about it. It’s often the way I work best, even if it’s hard on the nerves.
I’ve found this Haruki Murakami quote reassuring. It’s from “What I Think About When I Think About Running.”
What’s really important is reaching the goal I set myself, under my own power. I give it everything I have, endure what needs enduring, and am able, in my own way, to be satisfied.
I’m telling myself to ease into the trail and match the rhythm I find out there. In this, I don’t want to rush to the end. I want to fully experience the intensity and see what my feet come upon.
Just hoping they don’t come upon any rattlesnakes.