AT RunVenture Project Segment No. 14 Part 3

The next morning I would need to slow walk to the Kennebec River. Warren anc Celia would need at least an hour to drive to the opposite side of the river and hike in the half mile to the opposite bank from me. I brought nothing but one hiking pole to ford the river with Warren. I left my pack and my phone in the van. I wore a thick hoodie to make sure I walked slow enough that I would be able to keep it on and figured it’d keep me warm when my lower body was cold in the river.

I arrived about 20 minutes before Warren and Celia. I walked out onto the rocks where the water was only inches deep, like Warren said it would be. I waited a minute and then became over confident. I thought, “I can ford this thing” and began to walk deeper into the current. It was only a few steps in that was already waist deep and nowhere near the midpoint of the river. I froze, thinking, “This is not fordable, this is too deep, what the heck am I gonna do?” The boat across would not run for many hours and had a long day ahead. I began to shake and panic and then, I stopped myself. Warren knows this river and when he arrives, he’ll get you across.

I walked back out of the water to the bank and then back into the water where I sat on a fallen tree. I heard Warren shout, but I didn’t know if I should answer, or wait. Obviously they were close, so I waded back into the waist deep water and waited anxiously. Finally, he and Celia appeared but they were at the same angle as the rising sun and I could hardly see them between the distance and the glare.

Warren explained my current choices, as he was already aware that the water I was in was too deep to ford. I could either get out and walk upstream where it was more shallow and ford there, I could sit and wait for the boat or I could swim. My mind swirled.

I’d been standing in this water for a while and as I peered upstream at via the bank on my side it looked like an extra 30 minutes of time for me to get out and walk up and cross where I could now see that it was clearly less deep. I looked back across at Warren and shouted that I planned to swim it. I folded my pole and tucked into the back of my hoodie. I then tucked my hood inside the sweatshirt and tied it so that the current would not untuck my hood and essentially choke me. Next, I dove into the water and started swimming hard towards a large rock next to Warren and Celia.

I focused on pulling the water and kicking my feet hard. I ignored the weight of my big trail shoes and hoodie, the cold water, and the darkness around me. I could hear Warren’s voice but could not hear what the heck he was saying. I just swam until I realized I was no longer moving across the river. I was swimming in place and the current was holding me there. I was fatiguing as I tried to overcome the water.

I was overwhelmed with fear and doubt. I could not simply rest, like when you’re normally swimming, my sweatshirt and shoes suddenly began to feel very heavy, my brain struggled as I inhaled hard and dove back into the brown murky water, “You’re going to sink if you can’t swim, if you sink, you’re going to drown…”

Luckily, the deeper levels of my mind were working too, above my emotional drama I thought, “Why are you trying to swim upstream? You do not need to get to Warren, you need to get to the bank.” And without a moment's hesitation I shifted my goal direction and made progress quickly towards land on the opposite bank. Less than a minute later I saw rocks beneath me and worked to put my feet on them. I tried to stand and fell over on the slick rocks while gasping for air. Warren made a sarcastic joke about how graceful I looked, which was absolutely accurate.

I made my way to Warren and Celia. Warren looked proud and expressed as much. I was slightly traumatized and felt nothing but gratitude for their company and the solid ground beneath my feet. I began to shiver, then as we walked to the van, I began to weep. I didn’t cry, or sob, just shiver and weep. I knew I’d just experienced something I’d need to process, so I didn’t fight it.

At the van, I used a towel and removed the hoodie. I grabbed my pack and bar and despite the accolades and support, I felt focused and ready to process the events of the prior hour. “The feeling of the water will stay with you all day,” Warren said.

I left them for my next section of trail and I continued to weep for a few more minutes while I ate my bar. I used my low body temp to move quickly and cover miles. I continued to think about the river, the water, the fear that almost clogged my brain. I didn’t know how I felt.

I climbed Pleasant Pond Mountain and Middle Mountain and then descended to Moxie Pond rd. My feet were hot, but not in as much pain. I thought for a minute and realized it was my Bioremedies Hot CBD ointment heating my skin, which was somehow or another stopping the sharp stabbing pain. I was intrigued.

As I neared the road crossing a couple hikers commented about me swimming the river and I knew Warren had shared my accomplishment and that, of course, made me smile. When I arrived at the van I decided to change my wet socks and shoes and do some foot rehab. I applied more CBD cream and took my time to eat and care for myself. I had a long afternoon ahead, but other than Moxie Bald I should be able to move well.

I packed up and took off for the climb. Atop Moxie Bald Mountain I stopped to chat with a SOBO thru-hiker. It was nice to talk for a minute. It was cool and windy, slightly cloudy and I enjoyed my time above the treeline. After though, the descent brought me down and into some of the muddy and swampier part of the trail and the sun was hot. The horseflies chased me endlessly, bug net or no bug net. I had multiple water crossings that kept my feet wet, but also kept my entire dress wet and that felt pretty good.

I saw Warren, he said Celia was already checked into the hostel, Shaws, in Monson, ME. I packed up quickly, not needing much for the remaining miles and made my way up the trail. I was moving well and making great time. I was excited to eat good food in town and stay at a hostel with hikers. I turned on my phone to see messages from my husband, “I tested positive for COVID.” I immediately tried to call and was relieved when Dave answered the phone. “Are you okay?” I asked. The conversation that played out was cold and very hard for me. My husband seemed angry and did not mention or offer anything empathetic about him and my son not being able to come to Maine and finish the trail with me. The conversation ended abruptly with, “Okay, well I need to get Dan.”

After my husband had ended our conversation, I began to cry and run faster. I was so sad that they couldn’t come, that my husband had Covid and that I was hundreds of miles from home in the middle of Maine. I tried to figure out why he was angry, I knew I couldn’t get home much faster, I was just over 100 miles from completing this 2,194.1 mile journey and he seemed okay aside from being very fatigued and starting to feel chilled. He sounded okay though. My heart hurt and my brain was confused.

I popped out onto the road to find Warren waiting for me. I explained my new situation and the fact that I no longer had a way to get to the airport to go home. Warren immediately offered to drive me to Portland airport Sunday, which would mean I’d need to finish the trial on Saturday. I was already hoping to do so, so the new plan sounded solid. We went to a local convenience store and I ordered fries, a personal pizza and purchased a mint whoopie pie. We sat together while I ate as much as I could and then we drove to the hostel.

I grabbed what I needed and got myself settled into our “glamping” tent. I showered and scrubbed hard. I massaged my feet. After that, I took the remainder of my food next to the fire to sit with hikers and eat more of it. I enjoyed a few conversations, Warren and Celia hung out too. It was lovely.

I called my husband and kids and chatted briefly. Daniel was in a bad mood, so wouldn’t talk to me at all and Dave still seemed upset with me. I spoke with William, my oldest son and cried a bit as I was sad that he wouldn’t be coming to Maine with his dad. When we finished talking I tried to ask Dave what was bothering him. I knew he felt somewhat abandoned but I’d already thought through him wanting me to quit and come home now…I had less than 100 miles and was no here near an airport, even if I left first thing in the morning I’d only get home 36 hours sooner… he couldn’t want that? He wouldn’t? Right? He left me hanging and did not share why he was upset with me. I cried for a few feeling angry and hurt. Obviously, I was not being a great wife or Mom, but I was 12 days into a ridiculously big goal, tired, emotional and totally crushed by knowing he was angry with me.

I tossed and turned with achy knees and throbbing feet until morning. I got up and headed out to meet Warren. We stopped back at the convenience store for a breakfast sandwich and hot coffee.

I was entering the 100 mile wilderness and trying to run smoothly. I was struggling this morning, not having my husband behind me felt awful. I knew I had to keep going, for me, but I was feeling rough. I struggled to feel positive for the first time on the trail. I trudged on moping. I sat tired and sad on a ledge and realized I had amazing cell service, the most I had in days.

I took the time here to cancel all of the flights and rescheduled my flight home for Sunday evening 6pm, it was the only open flight on Sunday to get home other than the 6am, (which I had no ride to the airport any sooner), but before I purchased it I wanted to talk with Dave. I called Dave and he sounded fine, not angry at all. I was almost more upset and started sobbing. We talked it through, he was stressed and didn’t know I had even considered coming home. I was stressed and sad. We hung up in a better emotional place but my energy was so low. I purchased the flight and went back to hiking.

I crossed Wilber Brook and Long Pond Stream and Warren and Celia were there waiting for me. They’d hiked in to bring me a resupply which included a caffeine beverage called “Black Mamba'' along with a couple extra bars and fresh water. I also managed to remember to ask for bug spray so Celia covered me in that. The horse flies were wild! Warren reminded me the next 14 miles were hard. It was hard to imagine more hard miles after completing “the 227 roughest and toughest” already. It seemed somehow unfair, but that's the Appalachian Trail.

The temperatures rose as I hiked up Barren Mountain on the Western end of the Chairback range. I wanted and hoped for the caffeine to lift me up and it did, a little, but I was still feeling fatigued. I continued to climb and tried to hold on to my love of the trail and positive self talk, but it was a struggle. My mind kept falling back into, “This is why Moms don’t…” circles of thoughts about how hopeless my future adventure or FKT dreams might be. I was barely handling my husband getting upset with me. Imagine if my kid was sick, my child, not a grown man. I would be utterly derailed emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. Above all other goals, my drive to be a great mother is the most important. This thinking was fair, maybe even spot on, but it was not helping me through the rocks, roots, soft pine needles of the labyrinth that the Chairback range had me feeling I was in.

I wanted to sit and rest and then sit and rest some more. I was not making great time as I struggled. Finally, I reached Chairback Third Mountain and felt I was starting to make progress, but the afternoon continued to tick by slowly. I wanted to text things like, “I’ll never make it” and “I can’t do this” but every time I went to type it, my mind knew better. I’d think, “You ARE doing it, you CAN do it, just keep stepping forward and you WILL get there.” Columbus Mountain and finally Chairback Mountain, after which I would descend down the “rockslide” to West Branch Pleasant River and take a side trail to Gulf Hagas Trailhead. I made it. I was exhausted, more mentally than physically. It was only 5pm, I had hours left in the day.

I hung out with Celia while constantly swatting at mosquitoes. We were covering as much skin as possible and wearing bug spray but it was tough to escape those annoying buggers. I ate a footlong Subway sandwich and took care of all my recovery things, and prepped for the next day. I was getting closer, much much closer to being done. Despite struggling through the day, I had done great and maintained a solid pace according to Warren’s pacing chart. To me, a barely over 2.2 mph day felt ridiculous, but he keeps a running list of average paces per section and according to the comparisons, I did well, that at least made me feel better about it.

That night Warren struggled with mosquitoes outside and I struggled with the mosquitoes and the heat in the van. We tried a few different things, but I ended up climbing inside the tent with Celia, which she’d decided to set up to escape the mosquitoes. I slept pretty well once I was in the tent and settled.

The next morning would be my third to last day, the count down was definitely on! The terrain was supposed to be very doable after the first 13 miles of mountains and I would finally see Katahdin! I had only a 28 mile day on the schedule, it seemed short so I hoped to make good time and do extra miles at the end of the day.

I climbed strongly up to Hay Mountain and continued to White Cap Mountain where I searched in the distance for Katahdin unsure of whether or not I was seeing it. I hiked slowly, continuing to search the horizon for a really big mountain, but there were many to see. I can see now, in a photo that I took that I did see it for certain but at the time the shape was unclear to me. (Now, after finishing the trail the shape of Katahdin is something I would recognize anywhere.)

I popped out to West Branch road around 9am and was feeling very well. I asked Warren about extra miles for the day and we discussed. The next stretch of miles would be mostly easy and I could easily tack on 14 more. I told him I’d like to plan to do that and I packed up and headed back to the trail.

I climbed Little Boardman Mountain, surprised by how not “easy” it felt as Warren said, “You’ll laugh at the mountain” hinting that it was hardly a mountain at all. Trust me, it was still a mountain, or it felt like that because I was running. I was maintaining a 3.7mph pace at that point and the trail did get easier. Next thing I knew I’d knocked out 4.5 miles in an hour! It’d been, well, many trail days since I’d been able to hold that pace for longer than a minute or two.

I continued to move steadily. The heat rose again, of course, but I used streams to cool off and took time to go off trail to a beach and swim in a lake, just a quick dip, but it was lovely. Time moved slowly on the flat terrain but the miles ticked by nonetheless. I came out to Mary Jo Road by early afternoon, completing the 28 miles assigned to the day. I was absolutely going to go for more.

When I arrived Celia was shaken, she had just been giving some trail magic to a thru-hiker, named “Pie”, who fainted face down in the gravel road in front of her. She was terrified. Warren and Celia had helped her up and got her back on trail but Celia was worried. She said she’d never seen that happen before. I see people faint on a weekly basis in my line of work so I tried, as I do, to comfort Celia through humor, but I quickly noticed that was not what she needed. I tried to be comforting as I focused mostly on myself and getting back onto the trail as well.

I allowed myself a solid break as I believed I would mentally and physically tolerate the next few miles better if I did. When I was ready I stood up and turned for the trail, suddenly something twinged in my left lower back. I hoped it was nothing and I took off running hoping to catch up to “Pie”. Soon my run fell into a steady hike as running was irritating my back. I found a decent groove hiking and remained well above 3mph, which was my goal.

I eventually passed two hikers, one a female, which presumably was Celia and Warren’s “Pie” and a hiker friend that they’d met. They hardly acknowledged me and I was focused inward. I tried to peer at her face to see if she met Celia’s description but I wasn’t very sure. I hiked on until I saw another Beach sign where Warren had recommended a swim but the bugs were pretty bad. If I had swam I would have washed off the bug spray layer Celia had given me at the last road crossing, so I did not stop but kept on until I saw a small wooden placard on a tree, “Katahdin View ->”. I followed out to the bank of a lake and there it was, Katahdin. I sat for a moment and took it in and then continued on.

The horse flies and mosquitoes entered “dinner time” and I was dinner. Despite being covered in bug spray, they buzzed and buzzed around me. I was contorting and twisting, smacking the air and feeling victorious when I’d stop one from biting me, only to have a new friend moments later. I put on my bug net and did my absolute best to ignore them but I was not wearing enough layers to protect my skin, but of course had nothing else. They bit my legs and my hands despite my efforts. By 6pm though, the bugs had lessened significantly.

I had long since provided myself distraction with an audiobook and simply hiked. Fourteen more miles didn’t sound that far but it started to feel pretty darn far. As 7pm ticked by I was getting very close to Nahmakanta Lake. Each Shelter I passed I wondered if I’d actually seen “Pie”. I knew how worried Celia was and I thought, “It must have been her.”

I finally arrived at the Lake and struggled to recall Warren’s instructions to find him and the van. It only took asking a couple of camping hikers if there was a parking lot nearby and they pointed me in the right direction. As soon as I arrived, Celia asked if I’d seen “Pie” and was she okay, I stuttered and said, “I think so” and “She looked well.” I went for a quick swim as a shower and then began my routine.

My back had tightened up quickly! I went from a little sore to barely able to bend over. I was wincing and clenching my jaw with every movement. Warren asked if I was okay and I was honest, “I think so, I’ve never really dealt with this but I think the muscles are just irritated and in spasm, it’ll be ok in the morning, and if it’s not, it will be a slow last 45 miles of the trail” and I laughed. I was a little worried though, climbing into the tent that night was pretty awful.

That night, before sleep, we talked about the next day. The options were for me to finish it all and start at 3am, go for a BIG push, or to stop at Golden Road and have a long recovery gap. I was exhausted and worried about my back. I also felt no need to finish the trail at FKT speed. I wanted to experience Katahdin as best I could albeit alone now. So I did not want to do a 45 mile day but rather would do only 25 miles and enjoy my last evening and have time to pack everything.

It thunderstormed all night, not a passing storm but hours of drenching rain and loud thunder vibrating the ground beneath us. I tossed and turned, slowly with muscle spasm in my back. Morning came and everything was covered in dirt that had splashed from the pounding impact of the rain. My sneakers, my bins, it earned an eye roll. I recognized that we’d had extremely dry weather for Vermont through Maine and we’d been extraordinarily lucky that more mornings were not like this. I was not motivated and my back was better but still ached, I knew I’d be only hiking, and not running.

As soon as I started on the trail the changes in the terrain from 12 hours prior were immense. The trail was buried in 2-12 inches of water. The puddles had me knee deep. The small streams from the prior day were roaring and 3-4 feet wide. Prentiss Brook was full and pummeling downwards. When I looked at it, I thought, “Wow, with rain, I can absolutely understand how some of these water crossings would appear terrifying”. The sound of the water, that power and force, alerts your mind to take caution. I had no trouble crossing but was intrigued by the mental impact of the sound of the water.

I climbed Nesuntabunt Mountain and began to descend. I slipped and fell hard onto my chest, luckily landing in the moss. I got up a moment later and continued on feeling very lucky. My back was no worse for the wear. It felt like it had the prior day, it was still tight but it was not inhibiting my hiking as long as I didn’t try to bounce and add a run to my step, I felt fine.

After 8 miles I met Celia and Warren at Pollywog Stream Road and grabbed what I needed and took off to Golden Road. The trail remained wet and water logged, the roots were slick but the trail was flat. I moved steadily. I again disappeared into my audiobook, the flat terrain was just a little boring after all the excitement in NH and southern ME. I noticed as the time went on, my back pain subsided completely and I even jogged a few paces, though not much. I had a rhythmic hike going.

On the climb up to Rainbow Ledges I matched pace with a hiker. At the top I had some cell service so I stopped and called my husband as it was the first time I’d had service in about 36 hours. I told him I’d have service later, we’d be at a hotel for Celia’s family and I’d catch up more then. I descended, finally getting excited to finish up for the day. The final three miles to Abol Bridge were like something out of a movie, the moss covered rocks and roots weaved across the forest. Everything appeared tied together. There were areas so flooded with water from the night before that water was clear above the mossy floor, it looked almost like an aquarium. It was otherworldly. Then, I popped out onto a dirt road, Golden Road and turned right crossing Abol Bridge and taking in all the people swimming in the cool navy blue water. I waited a few minutes for Warren, which had me worried, I hadn’t realized I’d moved well enough to get there before him. When he pulled up he let me know Celia was already at the hotel. We headed there next.

After a shower and some recovery. Celia and I went to the parking lot to sort our plastic bins and repack. Celia would not see Warren again after today. I would, however, be taking his offer to drive me to Portland Sunday morning. We packed up and cleaned up Warren’s van. I took everything I’d need to finish with me and then packed a bag for Celia to have at the campsite the next night.

Celia’s family, Bronson and her two boys, Odin and Bjorn, arrived. They headed out to dinner and I decided to take Warren to dinner at McDonalds. I hadn’t eaten there in twenty years and had been thinking about a vanilla milkshake for a few days. I figured, if ever there was a time to eat McDonalds, it was probably 440 miles into a multi day trek. Not to mention, I was planning on a very early bedtime. In order to maximize fun time with Celia’s family at Baxter State Park, I would be waking up at 1:45 am to start on trail at 3am so that I could be finished by 12pm. So fast food was more convenient than a sit down dinner.

Warren and I drove across the parking lots of the hotel and shopping complex to McDonalds. We sat together and ate while replaying the last 14 days. We discussed record attempts and what my next steps would be. At the moment I had mixed feelings. I loved and still love talking about details of a record attempt. The dream, the logistics, but the more we talked about it throughout my trek, the more I knew I would not be attempting it, or at least not when Warren hoped I would. He’d literally provided me with the dates he could help, including the few fall weeks he was free for me to attempt a 300+ mile week running North from Springer as a “test”. My head was spinning.

On some level there was nothing else I’d rather talk about but I had been playing with the thought stream of an FKT attempt for months, maybe even a year. I’d read, I’d considered and here I was feeling really great after 440 miles. Interestingly though to me, that 440 miles would fall so far short of record pace. In other words, I showed great, possible potential, I didn’t do anything particularly special. That’s how I feel about it. Yes, I am a strong runner/ hiker. Yes, I can handle my mind and my pain. Yes, I can do with limited sleep. Yes, I can eat anything, drink anything and keep on going. There are a lot of “Yes’s” and boxes checked off but that doesn’t change the fact that this was not the same as a record attempt.

Still, I was honest with Warren that I couldn’t see it, not so soon. He waved off my response and we continued to talk about it and the possibilities. I would finish tomorrow and go home and process everything. I would go back to business, my children and think about what two weeks was like and think about what 6 weeks would feel like. I would go home honored to be considered a candidate at all, by one of the most infamous Appalachian Trail record holders (and so much more), and then I would figure out what I wanted.

We finished eating and as we drove the 0.3 miles back to the hotel Warren joked about how few hikers likely got rides for such a silly distance. We laughed and then he dropped me off at the hotel. I headed to our room and went right to sleep on the floor in my sleeping bag.

The middle of the night arrived and I woke up easily. I snuck into the bathroom where I’d put my clothing and changed and prepped quietly. I was ready to go and snuck out without waking anyone. Warren and I drove to the gas station and I bought a cold coffee drink as there was no hot coffee available at 2am and some strawberry donuts, a random craving that packed some calories. I worked on my Condition One bar as well as we drove back to Abol Bridge.

Right on schedule at 3am I was walking down the dark road focused on my lit circle of vision and the blue arrow moving down the red line on the Far Out map. I had 10 mile to the base of Katahdin. I jogged. After an hour I’d covered almost 4.5 miles and the trail became a bit less smooth but I was still able to jog a fair amount and I hiked hard and focused when I walked. I made great time and as the sun rose I passed a pond, Daicey Pond, and here I heard chatter. I looked over and 3 beavers were playing and swimming. I finally got to see beavers! I took pictures and videos and watched them swim across the Pond far away from me as I hiked the trail. Then, I passed through Katahdin Stream Campground, this was it, I had made it to the base of Katahdin. I had 5.2 miles to go.

I jogged the first mile excited to be summiting so early, it was 5:40am when I signed the book at the base. Then, there were rock stairs as I climbed as I hiked past Katahdin Falls, followed by 24” root and rock steps to slow me down. The trail would move intermittently from bouldering to fairly smooth climbing. It was slow going. When I reached the tree line I was excited, until I was terrified. This was not like anything I’d done before. This looked like Mahoosuc Notch at a 60 degree angle upwards. The Boulders were huge and the risk of falling was very real. I was suddenly very alone at 7am. The wind was gusting at me and the cloud cover was thick. I could feel the temperature dropping. So, I focused in and worked harder to make more body heat. I climbed and monkeyed my way up. After a bit the rocks looked more like a ridgeline, like Franconia Ridge, still a bit terrifying but at least the boulders were only 3-4’ high rather than 10+ feet.

I saw another hiker and climbed even harder to catch up. When I did, I was so relieved that someone else was out here. He told me he had a friend ahead of him, so I kept pushing, planning to catch up to his friend. The terrain smoothed out but the rocks continued all the way up. I was freezing but warm too. I was damp from the moisture in the air being slammed against my left side by the gusting wind. I continued to climb and climb.

Finally, I saw his friend and I was within a few paces of him when we arrived at the top, the end, the Northern Terminus of the Appalachian Trail. We gave one another fist bumps, shared congratulations and took one another’s photos atop the Katahdin sign. His name was "Dozer" we chatted very breifly and then I wished him well. I had planned on doing Knife’s edge but the reality was that it was 30 something degrees and I had zero view. I needed to get down off that mountain.

I turned and ran back down the rocks. My left ankle screamed at me every time my foot landed with too much inversion, which is a lot running down a mountain. It slowed me some as I tried hard to keep making body heat. I was not warm though, the wind was now gusting directly at my face and water from the moisture hitting me was dripping from my nose. When I got back to the ridge I began to see a lot of people all summiting, mostly day hikers. I was at ease knowing I was in the sights of other people in case of a slip and fall.

I worked carefully, but quickly down the mountain, forcing my stiff cold hands to grip the granite.I made it back to the tree line and the fatigue of the last 3 hours hit me. I was well ahead of noon, it was about 9:30 in the morning. I slowed myself down and allowed myself to hike slowly the rest of the way down. My body was shaken and fatigued from the rock climbing, the shivering and the fear of everything: getting injured, getting too cold, being alone.

I arrived next to Katahdin Falls and had one single bar of service. I sent out a text to my husband but the attempted call failed. I message Warren and Celia before continuing downward to the campground, where I found a picnic table and took my shoes off, laid down on the bench and snoozed for thirty minutes. Once Celia and her family, and our friends, Kevin and Keila arrived I got up and I found them and everyone congratulated me. I felt tired and nothing else at the moment.

Kevin and Keila went for a hike and Celia’s family filled me with eggs, bacon, pancakes, etc… Later I recommended a short hike to Katahdin Falls and we all went up and watched Bjorn and Odin play in the ice cold mountain water. We had burgers for dinner and I indulged in a couple beers.

“Pie” hiked by and Celia recognized her immediately. In that moment, I knew that I didn’t, which meant I had not seen her the other day on trail. I felt badly for assuming I had and having not been totally honest with Celia, but it never came up. “Pie” joined us for dinner and camped with us. It was the greatest gift to me, which likely no one else seated there at our campsite knew. “Pie “ and I chatted and re-lived the last 200 miles together. I had felt so alone with the accomplishment, which was totally okay, but as we shared our stories and recollections of being in the same places at different moments, the strain, the struggle, the joy, the being felt human. It felt so nice just to share it with someone who was there too. I had missed having that with Celia the last week and it was simply sad to have finished without her. Having that evening with “Pie” allowed me to celebrate.

I chatted with Kevin by the fire for a while after giving Keila hugs as she was headed to bed early. Everyone but me would be headed up Katahdin in the morning, I’d be headed to Portland airport. We were all in bed early.

The next morning everyone was up with me. Celia made coffee and then Bronson drove me to the gate. It was a long drive and when we arrived Warren was waiting anxiously and we quickly jogged to the van which was in the long line at the gate awaiting the park to open. Warren wanted to get out of the line and away from Baxter State Park. We jumped into the van and reeled out of there just before the line started to move. We drove for hours, stopping for breakfast and a few other pit stops to break up the drive for Warren.

That was it! I finished the Appalachian Trail! Celia still has some 250 miles to go. I still don’t know how I feel, there was everything a journey should have. I don’t know what else to say. I am so relieved to be done. I am sad it's over.

Reality is ever present though and I am very busy at home and have a race lined up soon. I continue on to the next adventure, that is what I do.