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Post Hike Exercise Analysis: Long-Distance Hiking is a Lot of Work and You Can Get Burned Out
Long Distance hiking is hard work. Everyone knows that, but it is still a shock to actually do it compared to thinking about doing it. After we had completed a few hundred miles, friends would text us with encouragement fused with amazement. They often commented that "you must be in amazing shape!" We always laughed. We were much better able to do the work we set out to do after several weeks of doing it, but neither of us would have categorized ourselves as being in "amazing shape." Honestly, between the dings and bumps of everyday life on the trail, bugs, cold, heat, and hunger, it was actually difficult to logically asses whether or not we were in "amazing shape." I remember feeling similarly about my fitness in 1975. I walked nearly three times as far then (~1500 miles) as we did this trip (666.5 miles). I remember being able to pack on more miles with less thought (e.g. trail legs) but I never thought of myself as a specimen of great fitness. I just walked. And it hurt. And it was hard. In 2025, it was the same. We just walked, and it hurt, and it was hard.
Post-Hike Nutritional Analysis: High Quality, Nutrient Dense Trail Food Matters
When we started planning for our AT hike, we aimed to prevent some of the less desirable outcomes of thru hiking that sap energy and add to hiker stink. We spent a lot of time studying nutrition and fitness information trying to maximize our preparedness. I think we learned a lot, and will try to share some here. If you followed our blog, you know we home dehydrated most of our food. We are not advocating for all hikers to undertake the massive dehydration preparation we did. From what we learned, we do advocate for better trail nutrition. Our primary goal was to have high quality, nutrient dense foods with balanced macros at the lowest weight and cost we could manage. While home dehydrating and mailed resupply is one option, there are many ways to reach that goal.
Here’s to the Class of 2026: Lessons from the AT in 2025
Today was perfect training for our next year's planned thru hike, the Long Trail. We ended our day snowshoeing in the rain after dark. The cold, dark rain reminded us of our 2025 Appalachian Trail hike. Both of us were fine with it. We allowed as how we were largely fine with it because we were not struggling through the crumbling snow with 20 pound packs trying to find a shelter in the dark. I suppose if we had been, the tears of frustration we no doubt would have shed would not show because the rain already had us soaked. As it was, we found our way back to the car and drove 2 miles to warm house, with dry clothes and dinner cooking in the oven. Lest you think we are going soft, we may well be! When we met with our health coach today she suggested that our struggles the past several years, and the hike, made us closer. Upon reflection, after being together for 50 years, we don't think it did. We did think, rather enthusiastically, that the past year made us nicer. There is something to be said for struggling and still finding beauty at the end of the day. Those of us who have had the luxury of long-distance hiking have to be dolts to miss it. The struggle is a well-known companion. The beauty is around the corner, sometimes close and sometimes far, but always there in the vistas, the scent of spring, the welcoming warmth of a shelter or tent in a storm, or kindness of strangers.
Getting Steady on our Feet After Reentry
It is a month since we returned home from the Appalachian Trail. In truth, it has been a pretty chaotic month but we both feel pretty settled with it. Early in the month, both of us temporarily lost the memory the hike as a recent event. Strangely, when we thought about The Trail, it was like a foggy memory. Now, it seems like something in the past but not a foggy past. As a psychologist, I know this is a process called memory stabilization in which new, easily disrupted memories are transformed into more resilient ones that are not subject to interference. Memories of specific events or experiences, episodic memory, blends with semantic (fact) memory and is encoded by the brain's hippocampus and the neocortex. The next step is memory consolidation in which new neuronal pathways are formed. These pathways assure the information is stored, and can be retrieved, from long-term memory.
Days 103-108: Traveling Home: Maine to Montana
It took us 7 days to get from Maine to Montana. Transitioning from the Trail to "real life" is tricky and we wanted to take it slowly. We felt like we were headed into a storm of responsibility and were not really able to pick up all the threads yet. Struggling with unwanted feelings is a well-known post-distance hike phenomenon. So well-known that the Appalachian Trail Conservancy even has an advice article about it. In 1975, I really struggled after being on the trail 6 months. It was winter, but my memories of those early post-hike months have a darkness around them that is not fixed by a lamp or even by spring. Thankfully, now we talk about mental health, and it is OK to say you are struggling. Traditionally described as depression, some recent research suggests the post-hike blues is more likely grief than depression.
Day 102: Reaffirming My Katahdin
I am not ambiguous about re-climbing Katahdin this morning. I am of two minds. I feel compelled to try and I do not want to do it. I did sleep sufficiently last night to be restored to strength this morning, even thought it was very hard to get to sleep. I also had recurrent dreams of struggling to get through the boulders above treeline. I never failed in my dreams, but I never succeed either. I was like Sisyphus rolling the rock up over and over and over. Like Sisyphus, in my dream, I never gave up. I woke knowing I would try again.
Day 101: Reaching My Katahdin
I have waited for half a century for today. I spent most of that time thinking I would never see the summit of Katahdin. Today, I saw the summit. I don't even know how to write about it. It is both victorious and devastating. It was thrilling and it was traumatizing. I also worry about all of you who are reading this blog and have been cheering for us. Please know today was not a defeat, but it was not the victory I expected. Tonight, I am filled with ambiguity about what it all means. I know that is not uncommon, but I am so overcome by the experience I have no affect at all. Deep searching for feelings within me brings up nothing. I know from years of working with trauma victims that this is common following a traumatic event. Today, I was afraid for my life. The day of victory transformed into a day of trying to stay alive.
Day 100: Abol Bridge 50 Years Later
I like the symmetry of my Abol Bridge return being on the 100th day on my 50th anniversary hike. It is cold and rainy this morning, like it was November 11, 1975. We are still snuggled in the blankets at the Appalachian Trail Hostel. The room is sparkling clean and everything is perfectly matched in a minimalist way. The building is old, perhaps from the early 1900s, but restored and outfitted like a neat, ultralight hiker. Everything you need and nothing you don't. I could not decide if the room was decorated with courage, I needed that.
Day 99: A Long Ride with a Broken Tailpipe and a Lobster Roll
In 1975, it was a long walk from New Hampshire to Baxter State Park. I knew I had missed the deadline to enter the park but walked on with the intention of getting to the boundary. We have tried to remember exactly when we left Glencliff in 1975 but can only come up with late-September. The Historian was visiting and he and I hiked from there to Pinkham Notch. It was glorious weather. We had a bluebird day on Mount Washington, after having survived a 24 hour snow storm in a tiny tent outside Lake of the Clouds. It took me until November 11 to reach Baxter State Park (Abol Bridge). In 2017, Barry Dana, former Penobscot chief completed the 261 trip mile trip in just 8 days.
Day 98: Splitting Up for the Last of New Hampshire
I can't believe I ate junk food for breakfast here on the last day in New Hampshire when I am headed out for a solo slack pack. Hiker hostels have somewhat standard fare in their freezers for hikers to purchase. Almost always there is frozen pizza. Most have ice cream. Some have frozen breakfast foods. We don't eat that stuff. They may be the epitome of ultra processed, inflammatory foods. We ate that stuff this morning. It tasted better than I expected. So much better, I had two frozen breakfast sandwiches. The Historian, the one in need of calories, wisely ate only one. My hyper-palatable, overly salty, overly fatty breakfast stayed with me for hours, even with the antacids I ate for dessert.
