Reflections on Quitting My Thru-Hike

After 105 days and 850 miles, I quit my AT thru-hike, which was my first long-distance hike and my first thru-hike attempt. The subject of quitting is surprisingly taboo for how common it is. For the Appalachian Trail, the ATC estimates that 75% of people quit their thru-hikes. Quitting sometimes comes up in conversations on the trail, but a lot of times it is a topic that feels off-limits. There is an unspoken pressure to keep going.

In a series of ten recent posts, I told my quitting story in full detail. I wanted to give one example of what it looks like to end a thru hike attempt. The only person who knows if it is the right choice to quit is the person hiking. Here, I share some reflections on my decision to quit.

The “why” grounded me

Why are you thru hiking? This question came up very often as I made my way up the trail. I felt that I knew why I was out there, but it was hard to articulate in words. Once I got what I needed from my hike, it was clear to me that I was done. I am glad that I was eventually able to explain my motivation for a thru hike attempt. Once I could do that, I could also explain how hiking the trail gave me what I was looking for before I reached the finish line. Before setting out, I didn’t know if I would get what I needed from my hike, let alone how long that might take. I wanted to give myself as much time as I could, so it made sense to embark with the intention of hiking every mile.

Just because it feels right doesn’t mean it’s happy

Even though I knew I was done, I was really sad that I didn’t want to keep going. My LASH (long ass section hike) was hundreds of miles long. I wouldn’t have gone that distance if I didn’t like taking a long walk in the mountains. It took time to process the fact that I had reached the end of my journey, which I thought would continue much longer. I grieved my sudden lack of interest in continuing on. I was so grateful for my experience, but I knew the transition would be hard. One of the things that most hikers appreciate about long-distance hiking is the simplicity. You wake up every day and go for a walk. That’s pretty much it! Real life is fraught with complexity. Even though I was ready to take on the process of re-entering society, I was sorry to lose the simple life of hiking. Just because it felt right to quit doesn’t mean I didn’t have mixed emotions about my decision.

My reason for quitting wasn’t “noble”

I feel that some reasons for quitting are viewed as more noble than others. If you got injured, that is a legitimate reason to quit. You cannot physically continue. If you ran out of money, well, you didn’t plan well but I guess it makes sense that you have to stop. But if you miss your real life? How could you possibly lose sight of how awesome the trail is? I doubt anyone would say that openly. But sometimes, this feels implied by how people talk about life on trail. People will often say that their worst day on trail is better than their best day at work. I am so grateful to say that this is absolutely false for me! I feel lucky that my real life isn’t something I deeply dread or find terribly unfulfilling. My pre-trail life wasn’t perfect, and that was part of my motivation for attempting a thru hike. Still, I was blessed to have good and happy times with great people before I started my hike. I can confidently say that I would rather have been having a great day at work than experiencing my worst day on trail, where I was outrunning a lightning storm above treeline on the Presidential range.

I believe that if there is something in your life that is good and draws you back, that is something to be happy about. There is more to your life than your hike. Celebrate it.

Did I quit on a bad day?

Everyone knows the #1 rule of quitting: you should not quit on a bad day. After I left the trail, I asked myself if I broke this rule. It is a little unclear to me. After my worst day on trail, I only hiked two partial days with zeros in town between them. I didn’t spend another night on trail after my worst day. Still, nearly a month later, I don’t have regrets. Honestly, I wonder if the bad day rule made much sense for me. Before setting foot on the trail, I seemed to be afraid of everything except actually scary things, like real dangers I might experience on my hike. I needed a horrible day to help rewire my lizard brain. The threat of a lightning storm above treeline gave me exactly what I needed. It helped me contextualize my fear, so I finally felt ready to get off the trail and start projects that I had previously been afraid of. I believe that every hiker needs to decide for themselves if the “rules” of quitting apply to their situation, because we all have different reasons for taking a long walk.

I doubted my decision

There is so much pressure to keep going. The trail buzzes with enthusiasm for the grand finish line. It is hugely motivating for so many hikers. And there are consequences for stopping. You lose your trail legs and would have to spend time regaining your fitness if you change your mind and return to the trail. You may not get the chance to hike again depending on life circumstances. You might regret your decision. In my case, I decided to allow myself to make this mistake. Sometimes the “right” decision (if there even is such a thing) is hard to know and hard to make. I accepted the fact that I might be doing the wrong thing, and I had doubts when I was getting off trail. Still, it felt better to me to trust my own evaluation of the situation than to heed the prevailing wisdom of the trail community and try to tough it out. As weeks have passed since I left the trail, I don’t have doubts anymore. I’m confident that I did what was best for me, and I’m grateful for that clarity.

The sacrifice wasn’t worth it anymore 

Something that isn’t discussed much on trail is how much we sacrifice to go on a long hike. I feel very fortunate to have been able to safely hike the trail without access to some of the resources from my pre-hike life, like my therapist and healthcare providers. But I am excited to have access to these things again. I hiked on a chronic foot injury that thankfully didn’t prevent me from making progress up the trail. But I still felt mild soreness every day. I look forward to addressing this issue with a professional now that I am off trail. This is just one example of how wellness isn’t always prioritized on the trail due to limited access to healthcare, limited time, and limited energy. I had grand visions of stretching daily on trail, and it didn’t happen. This might be different for other people, but in my experience, prioritizing self-care during a long hike was very difficult. Toward the end of my time on trail, I gained a deeper appreciation of the sacrifices I was making to be out there. When I got what I needed from my hike, I decided that those sacrifices weren’t worth it anymore.

Everyone is different

Not everyone embarks on a thru hike for the same reason. I am grateful that the community acknowledges the importance of hiking your own hike. The right hike for me was a LASH, not a thru. I have so much more respect for people who finish a thru hike now that I tried one for myself. It is very hard, and an amazing accomplishment! And any long-distance hike is something to celebrate. We got out there and took the good with the bad, and had a super unique life experience. Most people will never even attempt a thru hike, and it’s a privilege to have had the chance to try it. I am forever grateful that I took a long walk, and most of all, that I found what I was looking for while I was out there.

My hike is over but the adventure continues

To all who have followed my journey, thank you! I appreciate the time you took reading about my experiences. I will continue documenting my new adventures in a personal blog, Fresh Prints. If you’re interested in what’s next for me, feel free to follow along there!