Day 30: rage hiking

Miles:7
Water:2l
Ducklings:3

I woke up this morning and looked at the time, 6:45. I try not to ever get up before 7 as a policy so I hit the mental snooze button, and next thing I know it's 8. XL is packed up and he's all "see ya later chump, meet you at the farm" and he disappeared into the woods.

I do my morning thing chat with some flip flopers and get ready to go. We are taking a zero day tomorrow and I think I started it early, at least mentally.

First thing, pack, leave camp, realize I forgot my poles, turned around and got them, then started up a stupid steep rocky hill. My Achilles tendons hurting, and no time to get into a groove. By the time I get halfway I'm a complete crabasaurus. At the halfway point the trail turns into a boardwalk through a swamp. And it is crawling with day hikers. People in clean clothes, walking their dogs. Dogs who are no doubt cleaner than I am at this point. Happy couples holding hands, teenagers laughing with their friends, happy fathers with daughters on their shoulders, the whole works of normal nature loving, perfectly nice people.

I put on the sunscreen like war paint and start to hate hike. My goal, pass as many people as possible, do these last three miles and end this miserable day. I just pressed forward, with a pace and expression that interrupted people before they even tried to speak. My tendons complaints were more subdued on the flats, each time I caught up to some group with light packs, or no packs at all, my big pack got heavier and my rage hike became more intense.

Finally I crossed the railroad tracks and saw the highway that was my destination in front of me. Two families coming the opposite way on the narrow wooden planks only wide enough for one person at a time. The rage would not let me stop to let them by, so hate hiking in the swampy grass was the only option left.

When the families thanked me I think I managed a grunt.

I arrived at the end, XL is standing there in his non sweaty camp clothes, smiling, ready for lunch. I hate everything.

So!

The moral of the story is I turned a beautiful hiking day into a full blown roomba rodeo.  It pays to take the time to get your head in the right place.