In the Planning Stage

This is what I feel like right now- minus
 the celebratory champagne

I'm currently at that stage in planning where one wants to be done with planning, and still has a lot left to do.  I like to call it the "AAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!" stage.  I call it this because you feel like running around like a chicken with your head cut off trying to get everything done, while at the same time wanting to avoid anything to do with planning your trip.  In your mind, you're screaming your head off because of just wanting to be done with it all, and on the trip already.  

To give you an idea of how these past months have gone, I'll lay out my two lists. By the way, I'm writing these from memory, so this is also an idea of what's going through my head right now.  

Here's what I have done:

What my sister's freezer looked like before the PCT

-Made and dehydrated 3 months of dinners (yes, that's 90 meals)
-Sent back my Montbell Jacket for repair- the zipper's broken
-Found and bought 2 cheap-ish pairs of Brooks' Cascadias
-Attempted to buy as many socks as I will need on-trail
-Attempt to buy as many Clif/Pro/Luna bars as I'll be able to stomach either on sale or pro deal
-Send my old tent back to REI
-Buy a new tent within my budget
-Ogle gear that I want, but can't afford
-Finished my taxes to see how much I can add to my budget
-Send back my base layers for replacement
-Buy a GPS, and load maps onto- we're currently trying to figure out why the topo isn't showing up
-Talk with Freebie about the trail- what to expect/towns to stop in/is anything going to eat me?
-Went to CostCo for the first time.
-Contacted and set a date with the guy, Lee, who drives people to the Crazy Cook Monument- I'm officially starting April 11!
-Sent my camera back to Olympus for (hopefully) repair
-Ordered new shoulder straps from Osprey
-Re-learned to drive a manual car
-Dehydrated a TON of fruit and vegetables

Here's what I still need to get done before starting the CDT:

-Figure out resupply points- thanks Pat for letting me look at yours!
-Look at my maps and organize them a bit, reprint some that are missing
-Make sure I'm square with the two people I owe money
-Find my trekking pole or perhaps buy a new pair
-Get tent stakes/learn to put up my new tent
-Make a tent floor out of the Tyvek my friend gave me
-Make/dehydrate a bunch of lunch spreads if I have time
-Go to CostCo again and get snacks
-Hike the highest peak around- Signal Peak- which is about 10,000 ft
-Try to use up as much food as possible in the storage unit
-Figure out what to do with my computer while I'm on-trail- I don't want it to melt this summer.
-Get to Lee's house by the evening of April 10th, and pick up 2 other hikers in Lourdsburg, NM on the way

Almost there......

-Do yoga so I don't completely freak out
-Find a bleach-proof small container, so it doesn't leak all over my pack this time
-Pack everything I'll need resupplied to me in a suitcase and take it on a plane to Denver, where I'll be visiting my resupplier, Fidgit, and dropping it off.  Thankfully I'll be flying Southwest. I'll also be visiting my lovely sister and Brother-in-Law as well as a plethora of others while in Colorado- I'm excited!
-Go the Asheville to visit more of my amazing friends and see some of them off at the beginning of the Appalachian Trail!

Alright, so some of the things I have to do before hitting the trail are amazing and wonderful.  I'm glad I set it up that way, or  would definitely be going stir crazy.

Why?

WHY?  I've been asked this question in different forms over and over when explaining my long hikes.  "Why would you do that to yourself?", "Why would you go by yourself?", "Why not take some protection?" (in most cases, they're speaking of firearms or SAR beacons) , "Why not take that money and invest it/go on a nice vacation/buy something tangible?" One of the most memorable- "I just read your blog.  I don't like that." My mom was referring to this post from my PCT thru-hike.

I explain my reasoning if the person asking is open to it.  My explanations are most times tired and boring: "It's fun...mostly", "I like to challenge myself", "I can't take that, it'd be too heavy/illegal", "Yes", "No".  Most of my adventurous friends understand my desire to hike on some level, even if they don't understand why I would choose to do multiple marathon- to ultra-marathon- distance days in a row for months on end.  

I definitely ask myself this question at times.  Why did I neglect to bring a compass?  Why am I crossing a 30 degree-angled ice field with a few hundred-foot open drop below as the sun just hit it with one trekking pole and trail runners? Why am I alone in mountain lion/bear/Roan Mountain territory?  Why am I hitch-hiking solo? Why did I just do this/that/the other? Why didn't I just do this/that/the other?  Why did I eat all that food knowing I had a 15-mile uphill coming out of town?  Why are there so many BUGS?!

There are so many reasons I choose to thru-hike, as well as live my life the way I do.  The camaraderie. The views. The wildlife. The not-so-wildlife. The challenge. It's something I'm good at. I get higher feelings of self-awareness from it. The gear I now have an excuse to buy. I love the accomplished feeling I get from challenging myself.  Some parts of our society have become too comfortable, too easy.  I promised myself a while ago I would never become complacent.

All of these reasons boil down to one constant theme: because I can.  I hike because I can. I explore the world around me, try new things, do things that (at times) scare the living daylights out of me, eat, move, sleep, be merry because I can.  I am one of the lucky ones, which I try to constantly remind myself.  I get to hike for thousands of miles because I want to.  I get to be myself, be who I want to be.  I don't have much holding me back- my body works well enough, I have all of my original parts and pieces.  My mind works too efficiently- at times I can't keep up with it.  I don't have any societal norms holding me back, no parent selling me to the highest bidder, no terrible situation I have to make it through.  I'm not starving, restricted in many ways, in a war zone, or terribly mentally/physically mutilated.  So I can.

And I do.  I love living life to the fullest, at times to the chagrin of members of society whose priorities are different.  As I'm hiking above tree line along the spine of a 12,000 ft mountain, on my 30th mile of the day, looking forward to dinner even though I just ate lunch, I think to myself, "Why not?"