When I was in Maine last year in the home stretch of an Appalachian Trail thru-hike, someone commented on one of my stories or photos and asked if I would ever do it again. I remember I began to respond, and after about 500 words I decided perhaps this was too big for just a Facebook comment. Or I may have been distracted by hot running water. It was definitely one of the two. In any case, the question just kind of hung out there in the back of my mind, primarily unanswered. I do remember writing a bit about the dangers of hiking on insulin, and the probability that if I kept hiking perpetuall ..read more

1. Where We Are It didn’t take research for me to understand that most people were unhappy with many aspects of modern life. Even those that absolutely love their careers tend to feel frustration over something — bureaucracy, paperwork, or long, pointless meetings. Things are much bleaker for those who work in jobs they don’t enjoy at all but continue out of necessity. This disconnection with one’s work results not only in unhappiness, but in poor performance. A 19th century tailor took great pride in his or her work because the finished product was entirely their own. Today, most clothing is ..read more

For as long as I can remember, there has been increasing political and academic rhetoric about income inequality. There is no point in arguing the existence of such a gap — it’s there — but to focus solely on income is to misunderstand the great divide that exists in today’s America. While thru-hiking 2,200 miles along the Appalachian Trail last year I saw parts of America I had never seen before. Having spent the previous five years living in a small town in upstate New York, I thought I knew what a small town was. I was wrong. Not every town along the Appalachian Trail is very small, but tha ..read more

By the time I passed Franconia Notch in New Hampshire this past September, I was fairly certain of two things. First, the White Mountains were kicking my butt. Second, my food was not going to last until my next stop. I could live with the fact that the White Mountains were going to be harder than I thought, but I couldn’t live without food. I took a side trail to the Flume Visitor’s Center, a tourist attraction with fast food, a gift shop and, I hoped, food that could be carried out. I was disappointed to find very little I could carry with me, so I ate a personal pizza and began finding my ..read more

If there is anything most misunderstood about the Appalachian Trail thru-hike, it is the idea that it has anything to do with hiking. This is a pretty tough argument to make about a 2,200 mile journey, but I’ve come prepared. Take a look at the current definition of hike as a verb: To walk or march a great distance, especially through rural areas, for pleasure, exercise, military training, or the like. I could start my attack right off the bat with the word walk. I walked a lot. I walked down state highways to the nearest town, I walked to the grocery store, to the laundromat, to Subway. I did ..read more

Many people have asked what it felt like when I reached the top of Mount Katahdin after hiking 2,200 miles. Did I shed a tear? Did I regret that it was over? Was I relieved that I was finally done? The truth is that in that moment standing on the sign for Baxter Peak with my arms risen toward the sky for a picture that would be with me for the rest of my life, I felt absolutely nothing. I felt absolutely nothing because I was not there. I was not there, at least, in 2016. I have told you before: I am a time traveler. When I decided over the holidays last December, in a span of roughly thirty ..read more

I’m standing at the counter in my father’s condo in Delaware staring at five post-it notes filled with much to do and a familiar feeling comes over me suggesting I may have taken the wrong trail. I pull my cell out of my back pocket and there’s my handy trail guide right there on the first screen, but it can’t help me anymore. There are no white blazes, no rock piles, no cairns and no tracks. Nothing but post-it notes and a phone that screams after having been silenced for so long. Less than two weeks ago I awoke in a bunkhouse in Millinocket, ME, disoriented with the absence of a tent ceiling ..read more

I have finished a hike along the shores of West Carry Pond just after dusk until finally reaching a campsite where the trail cuts back into the woods. Before setting up my tent I turn my headlamp off and sit for a bit on a flattish rock, taking in the dark and peculiar silence. It is too late to enjoy the beauty of the lake, but I will be rewarded instead with a sunrise over the water in the morning. It seems there are very few people in a five mile radius. There was the clattering of a small boat being taken in or put out, a canoe or at most a row boat, to the south. To the north a dog barks ..read more

I’m wandering around town 8 miles from the trail in desperation, having a moderate panic attack and meeting with the all-too-familiar words “no public rest room,” having conquered the White Mountains, having conquered Mahoosuc Notch and Arm, body feeling bruised and battered, pace shortened to the slowest yet, perhaps for the first time realizing the cumulative effects of hiking from Georgia to Maine in my aching bones and in my yoyo blood sugar and in my overburdened mind. How did I get here, and how have I made it this far retaining my sanity? Have I retained my sanity? Weeks, possibly month ..read more

Author’s Note: This article describes one of my scarier lessons in insulin management on the trail. I want to stress that I am safe now, and as with all lessons, I am even more prepared having been given the gift of this learning experience than I was the first 1800+ miles of trail. I knew going into the White Mountains that it would be difficult terrain and I would not get as far each day as I have been used to. The AWOL trail guide even suggests you may only do 1/3 to 1/2 the miles you are used to, but luckily it hasn’t been that bad for me, although my longest day has been only 15 miles. Wh ..read more