I would like to welcome and thank all of you who have taken the time to visit my website. It has come to my attention that an article that I was asked to contribute to earlier this summer has just been published.
http://blog.theclymb.com/tips/tips-thru-hiking-pacific-crest-trail/
While I am very grateful that I was asked to be a part of this article, I wish I had the opportunity to take a look at it before it went out, as I just discovered the author said I was a Triple Crowner, which I am not. I wanted to correct this mistake so that no one would be mislead. (I have contacted him and asked for a correction). The Colorado Trail is a 500 mile long trail extending from outside of Denver to Durango, CO. It is not the Continental Divide Trail, which is the third long trail in the US, extending from the Mexican/US border to the US/Canadian border through New Mexico, Colorado, Wyoming, Idaho, and Montana. This trail is FAR more difficult than either the AT or the PCT, and while I have had this trail in my mind since I finished the PCT, I have not yet attempted it due to a multitude of health problems in the past couple of years.

If you would like to read about my journeys on the AT or PCT, you can find the links to these journals in the sidebar.
Thanks so much and I hope you enjoy!

I gave one of my May talks in New Hampshire in exchange for gas money to get there. The librarian asked me to volunteer, but I told her I couldn’t pay to travel when I’m not earning enough to pay for my basic expenses. Since she asked again, clearly interested, I agreed. Maybe something else could come from it in the future.
A good sized audience came that night. One man stood for a long time, clapping for me immediately following the slideshow. During the questions, and following the presentation, I received many compliments from the audience members. One told me that my photographs allowed him to experience what it was like to be in the desert and other environments on the PCT. Another woman had tears in her eyes and later related it to soldiers coming back with PTSD. After everyone had left, the librarian said to me, “Was that good for you? It was good for us.”
Several days later, I wrote to her asking if she would be willing to write me a testimonial to the other NH libraries, as so many of them had done in Massachusetts. So far, the Massachusetts libraries have been much more receptive to me than the NH ones, despite the closer proximity to the mountains. (One even said, “I don’t think our community would be interested”). I received her reply as soon as I got into my car after my Athol talk, where I had received so many compliments. In the e-mail, she said, ” I thought a lot about the presentation and feel that it would be better served with an audience that is dealing with personal struggles.” My first thought was -Yes! Exactly! It is meant for everyone! We all have personal struggles! But I realized she believed that a library is not a place that people with struggles come to. I wondered what such a place would be. Did she think the general public did not have struggles? She went on to say that, “One patron left, because it wasn’t about the nuts and bolts of hiking.” I found this interesting for a few reasons. The first is that I have never ever advertised or described my talk as the “nuts and bolts” of hiking. If it were designed for people interested in learning how to hike long distances, my audiences would be tiny. There would be no demand. I also found it interesting that she focused on one person, who came in halfway through my talk, dressed in hiking clothes, and left before my talk was over. She saw less than a quarter of the presentation. The librarian did not seem to see the reaction of the man standing for me, or hear all of the compliments that I received.
My mind kept churning through her words on the way home, despite the nice interactions I had just experienced.
At the end of my talk in early June, I mentioned this woman’s comments to the hosting librarian. She said that the one thing librarians are most against is censorship. She said “that woman was wrong”.

My next talk was in a week. It had been rescheduled from the previous month due to the town meeting date. I had had tremendous difficulty in getting anyone at the library to communicate with me about the time of the event, despite numerous e-mails and phone calls. The night before the event, I received a phone call from the woman who had asked me to speak. She said she had a question about my presentation. (I wondered why she was asking me the night before). When I called her back, she asked, “Did you speak at the Topsfield library recently?”. It was a neighboring town and I thought she was worried there would be a low attendance because of the proximity of the dates.
“Yes. I did.”
“Is there something about ‘abuse’ in your talk?”.
Oh… Now I see the reason for the call…
“Yes, there is a small part…”
“Well can you eliminate that from your talk and only discuss the trail?”
I told her that it was an important part and not easy to eliminate. She again asked me to cut it from my talk or at least shorten it.
She went on to say that a friend of the librarian at Topsfield had called her that afternoon, telling her that she found it “depressing.”
I told her that I’ve given this presentation over 55 times and that I have received so many compliments and so many people have told me that it was inspiring. I said that I was sorry that woman did not like it, but that it is impossible to please everyone.
(In my mind, I was saying to myself that it is not my job to protect everyone from pain).
I later asked her if this woman would be at this talk, as well. (If she was, she clearly didn’t dislike it, and if she wasn’t, why is this even relevant?).

Here was a true request for censorship. I wondered why it was coming at this time. Before my first presentation, I was worried about what people would think of it. I knew it wouldn’t be what anyone was expecting. But from the very first delivery, I received SO many compliments. Why was I only being asked to shut myself down after so many presentations? I believed it was a small test from the universe to find out how true I was to myself. A younger version of me might have capitulated to such a request, but one of the biggest lessons I have learned from my yoga practice these past few years is to stand my ground. I know for a fact that sharing my truths are helping other people.
For the rest of the evening, this woman’s request lingered in my mind. The night before a presentation is certainly not the time to ask someone to completely change it. This slideshow took me over 3 months to make, and I have spent days and days and days memorizing my talk. If someone would like me to speak only about the specifics of the trail, they have to give me ample time to come up with a completely new presentation.
That evening, I wished that I had just one person who could assure me that there was nothing wrong with what I was offering. I wondered who I could call or ask. I couldn’t think of anyone.
Maybe an hour later, a woman who came to my Fitchburg talk “liked” an article I had previously posted on Facebook. She was clearly seeing it for the first time. And then she wrote a comment, “Keep telling your story, Wendy. You are helping others!”
I couldn’t believe it! I hadn’t even asked anyone for validation and yet here it was, coming to me at the time I most needed it!
I thanked her right away and told her that I was being asked to cut out parts of it for my presentation the next evening. She responded, “People need to hear…and it is YOUR story to tell, not for others to “edit”….you go girl!”. And then, “No coincidences….will pray for all your listeners, that what you share will touch their hearts. We’re all broken in places, some without even knowing it. Truth heals.”
Yes. Yes, it does.
Thank you, Carlene!

And then this article appeared in my feed:
http://nymag.com/thecut/2015/05/solid-advice-forget-about-being-likable.html
Here’s Some Solid Life Advice: Forget About Being ‘Likable’
“If you start thinking about being likable you are not going to tell your story honestly, because you are going to be so concerned with not offending, and that’s going to ruin your story, so forget about likability….you don’t need to twist yourself into shapes.”- Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

Do not twist yourself.
I was resolved to change nothing.
The next evening, the janitor and I set up the room in record time while the early crowd waited. I gave my presentation and a nice woman smiled at me in the audience. The host listened intently and watched my slideshow with interest. She slipped away without any acknowledgement about halfway through the questions. I never heard from her again.

I later thought about Cheryl Strayed’s book and the reasons why so many of us hike long trails. We don’t do something that requires so much resilience and determination and effort and time and planning for fun. Almost all of us have found the trail as a way to heal, or at the very least, a search for something we have not yet found. “Wild” is not about the “nuts and bolts” of hiking the trail. It is about a woman’s grief and sorrow and pain and how she found her way back to herself. It wouldn’t be an interesting story if it was about the specifics of hiking.
I feel sorry for the woman who got stuck in the part of my story that is “depressing” and heard no more after that. Most people hear the opposite. They hear the story of a girl who triumphed over tremendous odds, and by hearing it, they know that it is possible for them, as well.

A few nights later in yoga class, my teacher closed by asking us to place our hands in prayer over our lips to remind us “to always speak our truths and allow our voices to be heard in this world”, to the third eye “to walk the path that we are most aligned with that allows us to share these truths and find joy and contentment” and to our hearts “to ground ourselves in speaking our truths and walking our unique paths through wholehearted courage and vulnerability.”

Yes, yes, and yes. The affirmations are all around me.
I am committed.

May turned out to be a very difficult month for me. Physically, I felt awful (suffering from nausea, migraines, and a depletion of energy) and in this time, I gave nine talks (the most ever in a month for me). I felt so nauseous before one of them (for a reason I couldn’t comprehend) that I wondered how I was going to get through it. Another talk took place in my hometown, where I lived from the ages of 3-11, and which turned out to be much more emotional than I expected. Fortunately, there were a lot of sweet moments interwoven through the tough times. I have received a lot of touching responses from my presentations. Some people have tears in their eyes, some ask for hugs (which I love), and some tell me what they most liked about it. Here are a few of my favorite moments from last month.

My last talk in May was hardly advertised. I noticed that it wasn’t listed on their website a few weeks beforehand, and I e-mailed the director to let her know. Since it was a good 2 hour drive each way, I wanted to make sure I would have an audience before heading out. It wasn’t until the day before that they posted it on their website! I arrived at this inner city library and asked the girl at the front desk where I should go. There were no posters or any indication that I would be giving my talk there and she had no idea anything was happening. She went to look in a binder and came back to say that there was only a story hour at 11. Finally, someone appeared that knew I was presenting. No chairs were set up in the room. I wanted to ask if they could put up a sign on the front door, letting people know this was happening, but I refrained. As I was putting some of my cards out on a table in front of a window, a teenager ran in and said, “Can I quickly look at these? I saw them from outside. I love flowers! I’m in the gardening club.” I said of course he could and told him where they were taken. I pointed to the screen that was paused on the map of the US showing the three long trails.
“Oh, I want to buy an RV and travel around the country,” he told me.
“You should come to my presentation!” I told him. He was the perfect audience for it.
“What time is it?” he asked.
“1:30”.
“Oh, that’s perfect! I’ll be back then.”
I smiled at the librarian. I had just doubled the size of my audience all on my own.
Unfortunately, he did not come back for the presentation. However, I did see him on my way out. “I’m so sorry!” he said to me, one friend on each side of him. “My friend dragged me to another meeting where there were free donuts.”
I asked if he could go to the one in a neighboring town when I came back at the end of summer. “Yeah, that’s just a bus ride away.” He entered the date into his phone.
And then he gave me a hug. It was the best moment of that whole day for me.

In my hometown of Ashburnham, one woman turned back to look at me during the slideshow, put her hand over her heart, and mouthed the words, “thank you”. After the event ended, I was talking with a former faculty member at the private school in town about how it was so hard for me to get people to understand that this is a presentation about universal principles (something everyone can relate to) and that it’s not meant as a presentation for people who like hiking. He agreed, saying, “It’s not about hiking.” I said, “That’s the entry point.” Standing in the parking lot, he suggested that I could be a teacher. I shook my head and said I don’t think I would be good at that. His response was “You just taught a whole room full of people!”.
In Westfield, a young woman had to leave early, but came over to me to shake my hand and said, “You’re an inspiration.” And a very sweet young girl (who was brave enough to ask me two excellent questions from the back of a room full of people), wanted to shake my hand.

In Athol (where I was nearly not able to show my slides due to a malfunction of the projector), I met a couple who asked me to tell the audience what trail magic is. They later told me they asked that because five years ago, they happened to meet two young AT hikers in CT, and invited them back to their house to spend the night, gave them their keys, cooked them dinner, and took them out for breakfast the next morning. They still keep in touch with the young men. How incredible! After a long hug from the nice woman, she asked me to hold out my hand as she placed a little golden charm of a bee in it. She said, “I give these to people who have touched me. It’s for them to remember to ‘Be well and Be happy.” Her husband nodded and repeated, “Be well and Be happy.” I was so honored.
Another man told me that he was “blown away”, I received a standing ovation from another one, and one woman told me that the hike itself was an extremely brave thing to do, but talking about what I do is even braver. “It’s like you were stripped bare up there.” I took that as a huge compliment. But perhaps my most favorite story came at the end. A young woman in the audience came up to me last. She said she could relate to so much about what I said. At that time, she was preparing for her own southbound AT hike. At a flea market, where she was selling all of her possessions, she met someone who told her about my talk. Somehow, she was able to find a ride to the library. As she listened to me talk, she found herself in disbelief. She said she had been thinking a lot about the root chakra recently (something I mention in my talk) and had just gotten a tatoo on her forearm. It said, “I AM”. My eyes widened. A couple of weeks earlier, I had seen a simplified diagram of the chakras with only two words describing what each one stood for. The first was “I AM”. In the days following, I found myself repeating that simple phrase to myself on a couple of my walks to the beach as the first and foremost condition of being alive; of having worth. And here this young woman, about to start her own long hike, was showing me this phrase tatooed on her body after seemingly living through a lot of similar things that I had. She said she felt overwhelmed on her way out.

I hope she is having the best time out there and I really hope I get the chance to hear her story one day.

I also had a few nice moments in yoga. In two different classes, one of my teachers (probably the most physically gifted one), said, “Beautiful, Wendy!”. I couldn’t believe it. Me? (I remember one was a pointed foot lunge and one was transitioning into half moon with both hands on our waist). Also, my teacher David asked me if I could demo something to the class because I was the only one who knew what he was asking us to do. He came over and knelt down beside me. But before he had me demonstrate, he said to the packed room, “This is Wendy, everyone. She teaches yoga (she’s a yoga teacher), and an artist (at which point I laughed, because I definitely don’t consider myself one), an explorer (:) ), and a TED talker (she gives TED talks all over!), [someone at one of my talks said I should give one of those and he saw that posted on Facebook). She does all of those things! She’s amazing. You should talk to her afterwards. But right now, she’s just going to do a backbend”. A lot of times, my lower back hurts when I backbend (which is common), but he had prepared us well during class, and that day I had no pain at all! He wanted me to hinge at the hips in wheel and then push back up, and as I did so, it felt like I could keep expanding outward forever. I heard someone say, “That’s amazing.” And that is how it felt! Later, I thought about David’s words and was extremely touched that he has been paying attention to what I have been doing, and took the time to acknowledge it in front of everyone. It was a rare and special moment for me.
And lastly, on the Tuesday after Memorial Day, I saw the teacher who I took the yin yoga class with that one time in April. He remembered me a month later and asked how my groin tear was. I told him I couldn’t take his class that night because I had to go grocery shopping, but that I really liked him as a teacher. He said that he really enjoyed having me as a student (which might be the first time someone has said that!). He said he would see me again and I said definitely. That little interaction really lifted me up for awhile! It is amazing what someone’s full attention and kindness for a couple of minutes can do.
These are the memories that I want to hold on to.

Here is an entertaining article on one of the best trail angels on the PCT, Donna Saufley. I witnessed an unfortunate drama play out in January on Facebook, ending in Donna’s sudden decision to stop hosting hikers at her home. It was not a “vendor” at Kick-Off, but the writer of the PCT guidebook who has blamed Donna many times over the years for creating “bottlenecks” of hikers on the trail (without acknowledging the part of Kick-Off, which marks the time that most of the PCT hikers start the trail in these masses). It was hard to read some of the language being used to blame such kind and helpful people in these threads. Egos remain a problem even in this area of life. I barely spoke with Donna while I was in Agua Dulce, but have since learned a lot about her. She now ranks as one of my top role models and favorite people.  I absolutely love what she stands for. She is a very strong woman with a huge heart. The last line of the article made me cry on my first read of it. This is a tremendous loss to the PCT.

Heaven Sent

I stopped writing because I got really tired of sounding like a broken record. I felt like all I have been saying is “I’m sick” or “I’m hurt” continuously. In mid-April, I re-tore my groin doing yoga (yin yoga of all things!). I taught a class that morning and felt the familiar pain return, but it wasn’t a strong pain. I am most in danger of re-tearing it while teaching rather than practicing because I am not paying attention to my own body then. I am also not properly warmed up. That evening, I took class in Boston. It has been taking about 1 hour and 45 minutes to make my way through traffic to get down there (one way!). A 90 minute class doesn’t justify all that time sitting in a car. My teacher had just picked up the hot yoga class at 7:45 and I asked her if she was teaching the same class again in the hot room. She was. She asked me if I had ever taken yin yoga before and suggested I try it. She told me it “was the bomb” and that the guy teaching it was super sweet, so I decided to try it. In that class, we do a little warm up to create some heat in the body and then hold seated poses for three minutes at a time, allowing the fascia to change shape. In one of them, I could feel my injured groin strongly and asked if this type of yoga was good at repairing scar tissue. I told him I tore my groin years ago and have re-torn it many, many times since. He told me to be careful and said that he had done the same thing. I wasn’t sure if the sensation I was feeling was helpful or hurtful, but as I walked out of class, I knew that I had re-torn it again. It was a very familiar feeling.
When I told another of my teachers later, he said, “Again?! Oooh Wendy… Just as your knee was starting to feel better!”.

Around the same time, something else was going wrong inside of my body. Ever since I finished the Appalachian Trail, I began to experience pre-menstrual bleeding that has increased to 14 days before my actual period starts. This means that I only have one week per month in which I am not bleeding. In my last month of health insurance before starting the PCT, I had this problem checked out. I was sent for an ultrasound on Valentine’s Day. The results came back fine. I assumed it was an age issue.

In mid-April, I had my regular period. Two days later, I started bleeding again, which alarmed me. That has never happened before. Each day, the bleeding became heavier. I tried to make an appointment with my primary care physician and discovered that I didn’t actually have one, despite having to tell the receptionist her name at every knee appointment I had. The woman on the phone said that before I could be seen, I would have to fill out a lengthy packet of paperwork and that I couldn’t make an appointment for a long time. I couldn’t understand why I couldn’t just fill out the paperwork before the appointment. I spent the rest of the afternoon trying to find another PCP. It was Friday afternoon and the offices were overwhelmed. In addition to the bleeding, I was also suffering from severe headaches on one side of my head that were unresponsive to ibruprofen and which lasted over 24 hours. On Monday, I was finally able to make an appointment to be seen on Wednesday.
I felt proud of myself that I was finally advocating for myself and seeking help. (Later I realized that this was not something I ever learned to do the way I grew up). I told the doctor about my intestinal problems and other recent issues, in addition to what was happening most recently. She said I should schedule an appointment with a gyn to rule out cancer (which it felt like I had and which the internet tells you you have if you are irregularly bleeding). She shined a light into my eyes, asked me if I was lactating (? how is that even possible??), and said she would take some bloodwork. She said I must be anemic from losing so much blood through the years. She said the headaches were probably tension headaches and didn’t think there was a connection to the bleeding. (To me, there is an obvious connection. They are occurring at the same time and both are new issues).
The nurse pricked my vein wrong. “Is this hurting?” she asked as she was filling one vial after the other.
“Yes.”
“Oh, then it must be in wrong. I could sense that.” She had to switch to the other arm.
In the car, I called the OB-GYN group and asked for an appointment with the doctor she suggested. I was startled to find out it was a man and had a hard time giving her my address after that, unprepared for that fact. It turned out that guy was booked for the month, so she scheduled me to see a different man. Apparently, all the women doctors are scheduled months in advance!
That evening, I went to my yoga class feeling very sad. The bleeding was increasing to an alarming amount. I felt sure that I was dying of cancer.

The next day, I made my way to the GYN. As I waited, I received the results from my bloodwork. “Everything turned out fine. There is nothing wrong. The doctor suggested that the supplements you are taking might be causing havoc in your body. She said to stop taking them and keep a log.”
I was stunned. Absolutely stunned. I felt like standing in the street and waiting for someone to slap me in the face. My supplements are most certainly not causing these issues in my body! The supplements are intended to help my other ailments and are perfectly safe. Once again, I felt justified with my experience with doctors. This is why I don’t like to go to them!

I had to orally repeat my entire medical history to the nurse assistant after filling out the same information on the forms. Then, I had to wait a long time with the drape over my lower body for the doctor to come in. He was an older man with a large belly who told me he is from New York and therefore speaks very fast and can’t change it at this point. He also had to verbally go over my history before proceeding. He said he couldn’t believe I hadn’t gotten checked out for this previously. I told him that I had 2 years ago and that they sent me for an ultrasound.
“That’s the wrong kind of ultrasound” he responded as he got up and left the room. Apparently he was on call and heard his name being called.
I grew more and more tired as I waited. There was nowhere to put my legs as I laid back. Finally, he returned with a different woman. I guess it must be the law to have a woman present in the room during the actual exam. With no warning, he quickly pressed hard on my lymph nodes around my groin (an extremely sensitive area). My eyes almost shot out of my head. Not cool, doctor. Not cool. As he put a brush inside of me, he explained that he was trying to get around all the blood, which didn’t put me at any more ease. After the woman left the room with the sample, he quickly lifted the drape off me and peaked for a moment, for no reason at all. I did not feel comfortable with this man at all. He told me the results would be back by May 18 and that he would schedule me for an ultrasound by June 2. He told me to take ibruprofen for the pain in the meantime and I don’t even want to say what he said next. (Every woman I have told drops their jaws and says, “No!” when I tell them). (And doctors want me to take ibruprofen constantly for the last 6 plus months?! Why is this their only advice?). He quickly spurted out something about fibroids or hormonal problems, with a 1 in 250 chance that it is cancer and told me not to look it up on the internet. Then he flew out of the room.
I was extremely confused. “So, it might be fibroids? And if not, it might be a hormonal imbalance?” He was standing with one hand on the door handle, just like the orthopedic surgeons were during my brief appointments with them, attention already turned to something else.
He left and I sat there for a moment before finally getting up. All of a sudden, he opens the door unannounced and walks back in while I am standing naked from the waist down! I’m pretty sure that is not legal!

Back at the desk, I ask for an appointment before June 2. I knew that was too long to wait in the condition I was in. She said there was nothing available and would ask the doctor if he could move things around. A week or so later, I got a confirmation for an appointment on June 2 with a note that said it was fine with the doctor. I did not receive the results from the pap smear until May 26th! Really just unbelievable. In the meantime, college kids were taking their exams and getting their final grades back! And I was still waiting for these basic, quick test results that should have been ready in a day or two!

Over the next few weeks, I continued to bleed heavily (for eight consecutive weeks), continued to have severe headaches, my energy was completely depleted (I couldn’t even do my basic yoga anymore) and I began to feel nauseous. I also felt very depressed. In addition, I had 9 talks to give during the month of May. Before the one on the 14th, I tried to go for a little walk and then hoped to do a very short yoga practice before getting ready. However, I felt so nauseous during the second part of the walk, that I thought I was going to vomit on the beach. I have never felt like that on a walk before before. Any amount of yoga was out of the question. I lied down in my bed wondering how I was possibly going to give a talk. I felt so nauseous and so tired that I nearly didn’t even get up. But I managed to do it despite how I was feeling.

A week later, I called the nurse and told her I couldn’t wait 2 more weeks to have the ultrasound- that I was not functional. She said too bad, there is nothing sooner. I asked her what if it was a hormonal issue. She said the doctor would look at that possibility after the ultrasound. I complained some more and finally she said she would ask him about it.
The next day, I received a request to have my blood drawn again. When I saw the paperwork, I realized they were testing me for the same things they tested me for a month ago! I asked if they could test 2 other hormones that I high school acquaintance suggested). I was told I needed permission by a doctor first. It was the Friday before Memorial Day. After a lot of waiting, I was denied by the GYN nurse. She said I could call my PCP. I went outside and made the call. The nurse said I shouldn’t have to wait so long for the ultrasound and then also denied me the tests I requested! She said I could get an appointment to see my PCP in 2 weeks!

I went back to the blood drawing place more upset than ever. I told them to go ahead and take it and that I would have to come back for the other tests later.

Several days later, I got a voicemail from the GYN telling me I’m fine! The tests were normal!

For several weeks, I kept saying “For the love of God” to myself again and again. Please. Somebody help me. Why can’t I find anyone to hear me and to advocate for me? Why?

My energy level continued to drop. I wasn’t even able to respond to e-mails people were sending me. Because I was nauseous so much (and still am), doing yoga became impossible. You can’t do something in which you are upside down for at least a third of the time when you feel nauseous. Some weeks, I did only one practice! For the last two months (as soon as I started to return after my knee surgery), I have only been averaging 2-3 classes per week! This is the least amount of yoga I have done since 2011. I also started putting on weight. Over the month of May, I put on 5 pounds. On my body, every additional pound feels like 20. I felt like I was 100 pounds overweight and there was nothing I could do about it.

I realized that even if my knee hadn’t prevented me from doing the CDT this year, I couldn’t have done it with the issues I am now having, which began just at the time I would have started. There is no way I could thru-hike in this condition. And yet, it’s the only thing I look forward to. I HAVE to get out there again. It’s the only time I feel alive.

(The sonohysterogram confirmed that I have a polyp in my uterus which must be surgically removed. The doctor denied my bottom-ed out energy levels, severe headaches, weight gain, or nausea have any connection to this problem! He told me that I must not be watching what I am eating and since I don’t “drink, do drugs, or have wild promiscuous sex”, I therefore must cope by overeating! Really! [Actually, you don’t suddenly gain two pounds overnight from overeating!). Later, he suggested I switch to Tylenol because the ibruprofen is probably destroying my stomach lining and that I am probably tired and getting headaches because my uterus is constantly contracting to try to get rid of the polyp. I have since learned that my headaches are actually migraines (something I have never had before and never thought I would have)! I also know that the nausea is not connected to ibruprofen. I am still awaiting a possible surgery date and having a very difficult time dealing with this man. I should have had the hystosonogram and surgery all finished and done with by the end of May!).

The newest documentary about the Pacific Crest Trail, “Do More With Less” was released yesterday! Along with shots of the scenery, the filmmakers interview many of their fellow 2014 thru-hikers. I watched it yesterday and was both fascinated and comforted by the fact that all of these people are saying the same things that I have been saying in my talks! If you enjoy this documentary and would like to hear my story and how hiking long trails have affected my life, please come to one of my presentations. I will be giving 9 of them this month and all are free!
You can watch the film here:
http://domorewithlessfilm.com/

Last Wednesday, I attended my first public yoga class since my surgery (6 weeks to the day) and my first class at my studio in months. While I waited for class to begin, I thought about how this studio has mostly felt like my home, but sometimes it has felt like the very opposite. I didn’t want to talk to anyone but my teachers. I felt so removed from everyone else. While I waited, I decided to do a couple of my hip strengthening exercises that I am supposed to be doing for physical therapy. My teacher didn’t see me when he first walked into the room, or even as he was taking a body count to determine whether he needed to open the sliding doors to expand the size of the room. But when he did, he gasped, and I stood up to give him a hug. It was an odd collision of timing. While I was just returning to yoga, he had just received the results of his MRI that day, learning that the pain he has been experiencing for the past several months is due to a large tear in the labrum of his hip, which will require surgery. There is a stress fracture and fluid buildup in his other hip. He had just posted this news on Facebook and I saw it just before class. I worried that he would not be teaching tonight but then calmed down and realized he has been teaching while in pain for awhile now, and that I did the same thing when I was in great pain!
“I’m still not fixed!” I told him. “I can’t do any hip openers!”.
“That’s awesome!” he replied. (Funny thing to say…).
He told me that he needed surgery, too.
“I know! I just read the news! We’re in the same boat!”.
He told me that he was going to have to bring an easy chair to the front of the room and teach while sitting down. “That’s what I felt like!” I said. When I was in the most pain, I felt like I couldn’t even sit down on my mat! I’ve never had an interest in teaching chair yoga, or a desire to do that myself, but when I was unable to move at all, I realized why that type of yoga exists! His cute little dog came running over to me and stood up on my leg. My mouth dropped open and I looked down at her. This was the first time she had done that to me! I couldn’t have felt happier than in that moment! I have seen her do that to others who David is close to, but for me, she only lies down and gets very calm while I pet her. I think when she saw David’s reaction to me, she wanted to duplicate it! (If my Dad is so happy to see you, I am, too!). She stayed with me while David prepared for the start of class. And then she did something even more amazing! She started licking my injured knee through my yoga pants! Animals really do know where humans are wounded! I was astounded! “Look! She’s licking my wound!”.
I was very fortunate that the class consisted of poses that were good for my body. (Some classes are just the opposite!) With the exception of child’s pose, I did the whole class, and not only did I do it all, but I was also one of the strongest people in class! I felt almost like my pre-tear self! Everyone was dropping like flies during the forearm plank series, but I stayed with it! We did 2 arm balances that I can presently do- side crow and astavakrasana (fun!), fallen triangle into wide straddle (my favorite), tree pose into extending our leg outward and upward (also my favorite), and lots of other poses. I felt like it had taken all the work I had done on my own at home over the last few weeks to prepare me for this class! And it became very clear why I used to be in such good shape! Those classes are a serious workout!
During our final rest, David said that he had never seen a time where so many societal and personal problems were occurring at once, but reminded us that not every moment in the day is like this. We can find pockets of good moments within the problems if we look for them. He told us what it felt like to receive the news that he will need hip surgery, but then thought about how he could sit on the alter and teach with glitter sprinkled over himself (“no one needs to see me doing the poses, they need to feel them in their own bodies”) and how he was excited to be a zombie on crutches for Halloween. I was amazed at his positive attitude and his ability to think this way so quickly after hearing such devastating news. There is nothing like taking a live yoga class from an impassioned person who was clearly born for this role. I felt so elated after class. I never feel this “yoga high” from a home practice.
I stayed to take David’s self massage, ball rolling class afterwards. At one point, I was looking at him, imagining him in his hospital gown in his pre-op bed. I thought about what a good mood he would be in and how he would be joking with everyone around him. He must have been reading my mind because he looked back at me and said, “We should have our operations at the same time!”.
I nodded. I thought it would be fun to talk to each other across the curtain. “We could be study buddies!” he said.

When I went home, I read all of the differing advice that people were giving him about his hip. “Don’t have surgery!”. “Don’t have the cortisone shot!”. “Do physical therapy! I know someone good!”. “Try acupuncture!”. “Sit quietly and ask yourself why you have manifested this injury now. The answer will come.” “Come to me for some intuitive structural work!”. It was all boggling my mind! I was a bit glad that I didn’t receive so many differing opinions when I was diagnosed. How can anyone make a decision with such strong and opposite pieces of advice? Listening to yourself and your own body is really the only thing you can do.

I still don’t feel comfortable going back to the teacher in whose class I tore my meniscus and I still haven’t been able to resolve the sharp pain in my inner knee, so I decided to go for a little walk and do some yoga at home on Monday.
Yesterday, I went back to see the surgeon, who I have seen only once after the surgery. The hospital was unveiling a new computer system and all of the administrative assistants were ready to pull their hair out. Each check-in was taking over 10 minutes! I was seen first by the physician assistant. She quickly noticed that my knee was still swollen and that my left quad was noticeably more weak than my right. “I think he wants to give you a cortisone shot today. That’s what it says in the notes if the swelling hasn’t gone down.”
“What?! Cortisone shot?!”.
“That’s what it says.”
Normally, I have a very good memory, but I had no recollection of possibly receiving a cortisone shot today! Maybe it was because my appointment with him 5 weeks ago lasted about 30 seconds, or maybe I was confident that the swelling would be gone by now.”
I felt very upset. I knew there were side effects of cortisone shots, but I had no time to look them up now. She asked me if I liked going to physical therapy and was not pleased when I said they were having me do hip strengthening exercises and not quad strengtheners. “That’s crazy! You really need to be strengthening your quad muscle. Let me get you a print out that you can use at home and that you can help guide your physical therapist with. Hopefully that will help them get you on the right track”. She brought the instructions in (I already have them at home) while she tried to point each exercise out to me. “Uh, huh, okay”, I said. My mind could only think about the cortisone shot. Why were people telling David not to have it?
She could see that I was upset. “Do you want to see what the surgeon thinks first before you decide?”.
“Yes.”
She asked me if I was icing my knee, elevating it, and taking ibruprofen.
“Not recently.” It’s been seven weeks now! I mean, come on. They want me to take ibruprofen for months?! I didn’t even think it had been swollen recently. (Neither did the physical therapist). But I did know that trying to take even one jogging step resulted in severe pain, meaning I don’t have a functional leg. It always hurts when I stand up and give my talks, and often hurts when I am just sitting on my couch or driving. She said I could either take a regular regiment of ibruprofen and keep icing it or get the cortisone shot.
I was really looking forward to taking yoga on Wednesday again, and I wanted to get some walking in before the weather turned rainy and cold. Suddenly, my plans were all becoming impossible.
Outside the door, I heard her tell the surgeon about my swelling and weakness and that she gave me the printouts of the exercises to do. He took a half a second to agree that the knee was swollen, that he could feel the fluid, and that my quad was very, very weak. “This is your hiking muscle. You need to get this strong.” He went through the pictures of my surgery and said the pain I am feeling is not abnormal. It’s where most of the surgery took place.” He said many people have to get the cortisone shot. I asked when the next possible chance to get the shot was. “Well, the computer system is difficult… so probably a month.” I laughed at the absurdity of his answer. The new computer system problems mean I have to wait a long time?
“What are the side effects?”
“They are low.” (Why can’t anyone tell me what the risks ARE?).
“Can I do yoga after I get the shot?”
“You can do normal activities for the next several days. I wouldn’t go to the gym or anything.” Not only did I plan on taking class the next day, I also had to teach a class.
“Okay. It’s time to decide. Do you want it or not?”.
I laughed.
“I’m serious. Hurry up and decide. I have things to do!”.
“Fine. I’ll do it.”
“Okay, I’ll go get the shot.”
His assistant swabbed alcohol on my knee and I let out a few tears. “I’m just so sick of being in pain.”
He gave me the shot and told me that I needed to work my quad. “You need to push through the pain.”
“Not the sharp pain!”, I said.
“Yes. You need to push through the pain to get your quad strong again.”
Two minutes earlier, he was upset that I had planned on walking 8 miles over the course of the next few days. (“You can’t go from zero to 10!” he said. He thought I meant wanting to walk eight miles at once). It’s really tough to be given no guidance and no answers, and then told almost simultaneously that I’m attempting too much too soon, but also not doing enough work and not pushing through the pain, which is keeping me in pain! The surgeon has not seen me and has no idea what I’ve been doing over these past few weeks. The last time that I saw him, he said the swelling shuts down the muscle. Therefore, no matter how hard I work, it won’t get strong. The physical therapist says I am working hard and doing much better in many ways than most people. (It’s the sharp pain he hasn’t ever seen). I clearly know the difference between the sensation of working a muscle (something I am obviously not afraid of) and the feeling of sharp pain that is telling you to back off or you risk hurting yourself further. The pain I still feel is incredibly similar to the feeling of the cartilage tear, itself.

I woke up with a much more swollen knee today. It was only after I returned home yesterday that I remembered hearing David tell someone else a couple of years ago that getting a cortisone shot is like having a localized nuclear blast in your body. It completely obliterates the tissues in the area. When I looked up the side effects online, the first thing I read was “death of the area bone.”
I did my duty and taught my class and was then smart and went home and rested instead of going to David’s class. I am so anxious to be able to move again. I really want my strong yoga body back. Prior to my tear, I was probably in the best shape of my life. Now, I am all soft. Not being able to move makes me feel very down. It looks like I still have a long road to recovery ahead of me.

The first day of spring, March 20th, was my six year anniversary of starting my Appalachian Trail thru-hike. I normally don’t think of this day (or my AT hike) as a big deal. Lots of people hike that trail. And I rarely think of moments from that particular hike, as I have better backpacking memories from the trails I hiked after that one. But I started thinking about what I have done since that day that I took my first steps in Georgia… I have backpacked approximately 5,500 miles, began a serious yoga practice, became certified to teach yoga, have been teaching for the past three years, chose to leave a job I had spent a majority of my life unhappily in to pursue my inherent interests, created a successful presentation that I have delivered 40 times to date (to over 1,100) people, written over 600 pages on my experiences on the trails, and have started to explore my artistic side. I feel as though “most” of my life has happened in these last six years (in terms of me stepping into my own power and not living as others have expected me to). And yet, it feels like I have done so little in this time! For more than 2 of those years, I have been “unemployed” and living well below the poverty level. For much of this time, I have felt stagnant and have been struggling tremendously in many ways. I have suffered from numerous injuries, been continuously internally sick since my second month of my Pacific Crest Trail hike, and recently had to have knee surgery (as a result of listening to my yoga teacher instead of myself), ending my hopes of attempting to hike the Continental Divide Trail this year. Although I have experienced most of my best life moments in this period, I have experienced some of my hardest, as well (the thread of which seems to be continuous). Thinking about all that has happened (and all that has not happened) within this seemingly short period of six years makes me feel as though I am living in some sort of time warp! The Appalachian Trail feels like such a distant memory- like it happened a lifetime ago. How could I have done so much in this relatively short period of time and yet feel as though I have hardly done anything at all?

This past week has been emotionally very difficult. I haven’t been able to get the Continental Divide Trail out of my head, no matter how many times I tell myself it’s just not possible this year. I’m still experiencing the same kind of sharp pre-surgery pain in my inner knee. I felt it about 6 or 7 days after surgery and I still can’t do any kind of hip opener (which makes 25-30% of a yoga class off limits to me). (I also can’t yet put my knee on the floor or on my arm, which eliminates another 20% of postures, but those will become possible once the surgical injuries heal). The sharp inner knee pain occurs when I am simply sitting, sometimes standing, sometimes walking, and always when I try to bend and externally rotate my leg. This pain is worrisome. I told my surgeon about it during the 30 seconds I saw him 2 weeks after the surgery. He quickly dismissed it. “There were sharp instruments in there!”. Every time I go to my physical therapy appointment, we spend at least 10 of my 30 minutes going over my pain symptoms (the same thing every time!). On Tuesday, I asked him if that sharp pain was normal. “Ummmm… Ahhh.. Nnnooo”, he said looked down at my chart. I first saw him 2 weeks ago for my initial assessment. He pressed down on my quads while I tried to fight against his weight. Both of my legs are weak from not being able to walk or move much for the past four and a half months, but the surgery leg is particularly weak. It fell right down. He tested the side strength and the hamstring strength, as well as my adductors and ankles. It was clear I needed to do a lot of hip strengthening. He gave me four exercises to do at home and I saw him again the following week. “Should we test my strength again?” I asked. He said it takes 2 weeks to gain new strength. Fine…
It’s also clear my injured knee has no stability and no ability to track. It wobbles all over the place whenever I try to bend or straighten it the least bit.
And yet, it’s been really hard to get rid of the belief that I can gain enough strength in the next month to start the CDT. (The planning time is another issue…). Every time I see my PT, I ask him if it is possible (he defers me right back to asking my surgeon), and what would happen if I tried to do it this year. (He thinks I am putting myself in the position of needing a full joint replacement very early in my life if I put too much stress on my injured knee. I guess this is a good time to say that this is not a far-fetched possibility. My mother had a double knee replacement when she was 49 ). After the PT or surgeon tells me it’s not a good idea, I say, “Fine. Okay. I won’t try. It’s too late, anyway.” But when I return home or go for a short walk, I think, maybe I can still do it! They don’t know what it is like to thru-hike! Only I do! It’s the only thing I really want to do! Now is a good time- it’s a low snow year. Who knows what it will be like next year? I don’t want to wait a whole year and then likely have it delayed for another year or two after that. The one question that I get asked at EVERY one of my talks is “What’s next? What trail are you going to hike now?”. If that is the question that ALL of those people ask me, they must know that that is where I belong. I don’t want to spend another year stagnant, in the exact same place. I really want to go somewhere!

I feel very stalled in finding new places to give my talks at. In the last couple of weeks, I have contacted or re-contacted about 50 libraries and universities and got only one response. I feel as though I am failing and that I have to find another way to try to make a living very quickly. I wish I could leave everything behind and hike for another five months and figure that all out later. But on Friday, I officially let go of that idea. I know that the first 90 miles on the CDT aren’t even on a “trail”- that you have to find your own way through the New Mexico desert from point A to point B, and that uninjured people are feeling a lot of foot and leg pain from the uneven terrain. My spirit thinks I can do that, too, but the reality is that my body can’t perform in those conditions at this point. It’s time for me to create something new- to find a sustainable place in the regular world, where I can survive until I am able to hike again. It’s time to come up with another idea for a second presentation I can offer, figure out a way to get people to realize that my talk is not just for people interested in hiking, and time to write my story down.

I have been wanting to make these tree of life pendants for over a year now, and am very excited to have finally done so! More on the way soon!