The Rebound Guy

Love comes with the potential for loss.

You’re probably thinking— F*ckin duh, Tenday. You’re not the only one who’s been dumped twice in one day by the same guy or heard the song about a key dug into a car.

We do forget, however, that there is a risk of loss even if our love is not for another human.

My truest love is movement. It’s what infuses me with sunshine and powers my insatiable optimism.

Movement allows me to care for others. Movement infuses my writing with humor. Movement is (I know it’s dramatic, but I have a BFA in acting ok) the highlight of my life.

My passion for movement has taught me I’m strong, smart, confident, resilient, self-sufficient, and frankly a badass. It’s provided me with an instant community and some of my best friends. It lets me know all the happiness I could want is available via my own two feet.

I love climbing and lifting and running and jiu-jitsu and swimming and cliff jumping and line dancing and falling off of a surfboard. Most of all, I love thru-hiking.

If you haven’t connected the dots— my love for movement has left me heartbroken.

When I left the AT, I filled my time with human connection and schemes for my great return. I was so certain I’d be back that I left my pack at a hostel (you should learn from my expensive mistakes).

I waited for the knee pain to pass. One week. Two weeks. Six weeks today.

I partook in all of your typical post-breakup activities— I got drunk. I got a dumb tattoo. I got bangs. (It’s not a phase mom!)

An acceptance into graduate school made it clear that even if I healed, I had timed out of my ability to complete the AT.

So, I did what one does after a breakup. I rebounded. His trail name is “Arizona.”

Arizona (let’s call him AZT) wooed me. I mean he’s 800 miles long. He’s warm. He’s stunning. He lives close to home. I thought “If we could make it official by the start of April, he might just be the one.”

I mapped out our relationship in secret— I downloaded the AZT guide, swapped my gear for the summer season, switched my shoes, followed the bloggers and the hashtags and the groups, and lined up potential hiking partners.

I discovered the power of cold soaking and planned out a week of meals that felt lighter than a single Backpacker’s Pantry. I had a base weight of 15 pounds. I was packed, again.

I iced, elevated, compressed, soaked, salted, taped, medicated, theragunned, massaged, splinted, and vitamined in preparation. Think of it as the “everything shower” for knees and toes.

It felt like falling in love.

In theory, I was supposed to leave today.

Unfortunately (my friends would argue fortunately) a random toe infection brought me to the doctor, where I discovered my original broken toe is still very much broken, there’s potential tendon damage, I’m experiencing a lack of circulation to my foot, and based on her physical examination my “knee pain” is a torn ACL.

Needless to say, Arizona and I didn’t work out. No really, it’s not you— it’s me.

I still intend to be the positive comeback kid you’ve come to know, but for now I have a spring and summer season of unknowns. X-rays, MRIs, specialists, potential surgeries, and physical therapy.

I also have to do what everyone must do after the rebound ends— I have to face and mourn my original loss.

I dreamed of the Appalachian Trail for three years. I sacrificed financially, mentally, and emotionally. I gave up my apartment. I passed up opportunities.

Not to mention— it’s not often one can take a six-month pause from society without consequences. I took a gamble with my time and lost. I don’t know when in my life I will have that opportunity again.

I needed the Appalachian Trail.

I experienced a dark end to 2022 and this hike was a light at the end of the tunnel. It was my saving grace.

The thought of the AT gave my struggles meaning and a purpose. Then it was taken away. I feel like my body has failed me, I feel powerless, and my heart hurts.

I am bummed to stop blogging for The Trek. I have stories of how my life changed from the four days that I was on trail. I have lessons from prep and pack shakedowns and people I met along the way.

That being said, I was granted this space and opportunity as somebody hiking, and for the foreseeable future, that is not me.

I appreciate the love and support that I have received in excess as I’ve navigated the past four months of prepping and hiking and recovery and loss. I have an army of trail angels scattered across the country.

I hope one day soon I can share my treks with you again.

To leave you on a high— there are countless hikers still going steady with Appalachia (looking at you BigWillieDawg & Lady E).

Though love comes with the potential for loss, sometimes it ends in celebration.

Happy Trails (until we meet again),

TenDay

PS Can’t live without my words? Follow me on IG at molly_treks