a kingdom built of seeds

Already I’m nostalgic for what I just wanted to finish not so long ago. The simplicity. The minimalism. The rhythm of the day-to-day routine. Having only one focus, one requirement, one goal—to walk. Long days, big miles, pushing and challenging yourself. Out of your head and in your body.

I didn’t love it or like it some days, certainly. But the hard as well as the exciting is what you miss. Being pushed out of your comfort zone. Doing more than you thought yourself capable of. You don’t necessarily miss what you’ve already done; it’s more so that you anticipate the continuation, finishing what you started. As long as you’re in it—two months or four, for part or for all—it’s a way of life. You have no other option, unless you quit. Your only meals are whatever’s in your food bag. Your only shelter most nights is the tent you carry. Your only home is where you camp. Your only outfits are the same clothes you wear everyday. Your only company is those who walk with you. You can’t escape the elements. You can’t run to comfort when you’re uncomfortable. You can’t ignore the wild all around you. 

You can’t be anywhere but where you are. 

It’s true—some moments you hate it. It’s not a feel-good experience, but a commitment. You don’t need a reason, meaning, or purpose. You don’t need a “why”. You only need to walk.

Thru-hiking is a teacher that says, “You need less than you think you do. With the little you have, you have what it takes.”

Like so much of life, forget how you feel and just do the damned thing.