VA: You Are Stronger Than You Feel

Northern Edge of Shenandoah National Park, Mile 969

So Birdy, how was Virginia?

After hitting the quarter way mark, I felt great. I found Southern Virginia’s open fields of cows and wildflowers to be peaceful. The gentl(er) terrain allowed my Achilles to heal. I was able to ramp up the miles each day. I felt strong. I had finally earned my trail legs. I caught up to some of my old crew, enjoyed fantastic views, and made new friends along the way. I even saw a few bears! The days were flying. May slipped into June. I hit mile 700, then the 1/3 mark, then 800, and then…

Out of nowhere, I contracted norovirus- or what some of us call the nobo-v. I woke up at 3AM just to vomit outside my tent. After packing up our gear and walking 4 miles to the nearest road the next morning, my friend Poe (Holly) and I spent the following 3 days in a hotel recovering. It was demoralizing.

As Poe and I lay sick and exhausted in the hotel room, we weighed the cost of this hike. Was it really worth it? Why were we here? Did we still want to keep walking? I dreaded returning to trail, knowing the Priest and Three Ridges Wilderness awaited us. Whoever claims that Virginia is flat is lying to you. Never forget, “Life is pain, highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something.” (Westley, Princess Bride) Perhaps that’s true. But in our moment of weakness, Poe and I remembered that it is in the times of discomfort that we grow. I wrote the following in my notes app that evening, 

“I know this trail isn’t easy. It hasn’t been, all along. But this is the path I have chosen. I told myself I wouldn’t quit on a hard day. My friend Footloose was right when she said the trail would destroy all my plans. But it’s been beautiful. I do love it out here. And there’s so much more to see. So many yet to meet. And apparently, more for me to learn.”

You are stronger than you feel.

As I share my journey on this trail, many people have commented, “wow, you’re so strong.” The wild thing is, I don’t feel strong when I am climbing a mountain. I don’t feel strong when I am stumbling towards camp at the end of a long day. I don’t feel strong when I am lying in a hotel room, vomiting my guts out. Remember when I said I would not quit on a hard day? This time, I wanted to forget it. 

I have learned that bravery is not the absence of fear, but the choice to do it anyways, despite your fear. I am now learning that strength is not the absence of weakness, but the choice to push through. To face the weakness and keep walking.

Our first day back on trail after noro, 10 miles felt like 20. It took days to regain our energy. I dealt with food aversion to nearly everything in my pack. In desperation, I prayed that my body would accept the food that made me nauseous. The food that would keep me walking.

The next day, I was still struggling. As I walked, I started crying, feeling sorry for myself as I stumbled along. I felt sick. I knew I was dehydrated. My stomach writhed in pain. Everything in my body told me to stop.

As a hiker, you become intimately acquainted with your body and its needs. You are constantly receiving messages from your stomach, lungs, legs, and feet. Slight tiredness likely means it’s time to eat. On warm days, chafing feels like fire on my skin. Heavy breathing and a pounding heart call me to slow down on the uphills. Aching feet remind me that I am almost done walking for the day. Out here, it is crucial to listen to your body.

However, sometimes your body exaggerates. It may feel like the loudest voice. That is why we call this a mental game. If I stop every time I feel tired of walking, I will not get very far. In these moments of weakness, my dad’s words kept ringing through my head: you are stronger than you feel.

So I kept walking. Throughout the day, my pain, discomfort, and attitude ebbed and flowed. I found another hiker, and she filled my afternoon with deep conversation and connection. I felt weak again. I forced a granola bar down my throat, drank some water, and laid on a rock for 30 minutes. And then, I got up. I drank more water. I put on my pack. And I kept walking. The weather was perfect. The breeze was gentle. I got a second wind and cruised into camp. I felt like a different person.

This day showed me how much my feeling or sensed state of being can change. No matter how pronounced those body signals appear, they can shift quickly (especially when addressed). I have the power to override and resolve those feelings. I am stronger than I feel. That night, I thanked God. He is my source of strength. I couldn’t believe how the day had turned out. 

Whether physical, emotional, or spiritual, feelings are pretty powerful. In a world driven by emotion, how are we to determine truth? How are we to discern what is worth our time? Is it wise to make decisions based solely on how we feel?

These sensations are valuable- essential parts of what make us human. Our body sends signals of pain, weariness, and fear out of self-preservation. The ability to experience grief, joy, and wonder is a gift. Trusting our gut can protect us, even when we can’t articulate what is wrong.

However, we must acknowledge how ever-changing, fleeting, and untrustworthy these feelings can be. When we misplace our focus and allow our felt state of being to steer the ship, we blind ourselves to the bigger picture, perhaps even robbing ourselves of beauty and growth. Before starting my thru-hike, my friend Juicy warned me, “Whenever you feel like quitting, take a nap, eat a snack, drink some water, poop, or pee. And then,” he concluded, “see how you feel.” The feelings are valid, yes. But they may change in a moment. So what is your anchor? 

The Days That Followed

Though noro is brutal, it is also (relatively) quick. Within a week, I was back to normal. (I also credit this speedy recovery to countless prayers going up from the home front.) I covered over 100 miles in 4 days. I made more(!!) new friends, and we shared sunset views together in the Shenandoahs. Deer ambled through the forest by my side. I drank blackberry milkshakes and hiked my longest day yet. It felt good to challenge myself. But who knew what the next days would hold? All of this could change in a moment.

I am now on my way to my early childhood hometown, Harper’s Ferry, the halfway mark, and family meetups in Pennsylvania. Each step is one closer to my people. Each mile is one nearer to big milestones. Each day is a new gift. I have a lot to look forward to! Let’s keep walking!