Massachusetts is my home. There’s no denying that. But when I was growing up, I had always wished I was growing up somewhere else. Don’t get me wrong, I love everything about the town I grew up in- the house I lived in for 21 years, the people I met growing up, and the fact that almost my entire extended family was located within a 25 minute drive. I wouldn’t be who I am today without such a strong network of support and love, however, I often think about who I would be if I grew up somewhere that wasn’t at sea level. After living in Boulder for a summer, I’m not so sure I would be the same person. I'm a firm believer that you are a product of your environment. If I hadn't grown up where I did, I wouldn't be me. And I kind of like me.

        Growing up, I found myself wanting to travel. I wanted to go someplace with tons of super rad people, less farmland and more mountain air. I truly didn’t have any issues with the people or the town, I just wanted something different. I always wanted to get away from where I was- and I don’t think that this feeling would have been any different, regardless of where I grew up. 

        That isn't to say, however, that growing up at 18 feet above sea level didn't teach me a million-and-a-half things about myself, but since a-million-and-half is hard to count to, here's 6:

1.Make your own adventure

In high school, there was little to do in my town. So Friday nights before sunset, we would pack up the jeep and head to a beach for a bonfire. It was a little weekly thing some friends and I did until it became too cold and the beach closed down for the winter. It was a great way to play outside and enjoy some fresh air and good company. I realized that, since adventure wasn’t going to come to me, I’d go to it. Finding my own adventures, in seemingly boring places, helped me to be more independent in my own adventure seeking, as well as more adventurous all around.

2. Adventure is all in your head

My dad drove the 2+ hours to hike Mount Monadnock when I was just a little girl. I loved it. It’s what sparked my love for the outdoors. But there wasn’t anything higher than 40 above sea level within an hour’s drive. When there’s not a mountain in sight, you have to make your own mountains. We have a big backyard and lots of woods behind my house. My family and I would pack our backpacks and walk for what seems like hours- looking back, it was probably only ten to twenty minutes tops- and pitch a tent for the night. I remember being in my sleeping bag, pretending I was in the mountains.

3. Stay grounded

It’s easy to lose track of your ego when you have access to huge mountains 24/7 and climb them on a regular basis. I was lucky to get out an hike five times a summer as a teen, between work and school. My hikes were in the White Mountains of New Hampshire and the Berkshires. On the smaller side, but back then, they might as well have been Everest. I have always been humbled by the mountains, and even though I intend to live in them, I hope to always be humbled by them.

4. Be flexible.

Growing up at sea level meant that if I wanted big adventures that didn't involve the ocean, I had to plan for it. There were no spontaneous "Let's go hike a 14er" moments in my childhood and teen years. While planning these trips, whether day climbing trips to Rumney, or highpointing in Rhode Island and Connecticut, it took planning. And a lot of it; organizing rides, leaving early in the morning, . But as long as I had a plan to play outside that day, it didn't matter if everyone bailed- I was still playing outside... Just maybe not where I originally intended.

5. Be your own adventure buddy.

Not everyone here likes playing outside. Most of my friends were prefer a day sunbathing at the beach to hiking. Sometimes it's hard to find someone to play outside with and I have to do it myself. I actually love taking my own nature walks and enjoying time by myself- I think it's good for you. It's taught me not to rely on others for adventure. As long as I have some free time, my boots and the motivation, i will always be my own best adventure partner.

6. Ocean air is good for the soul.

I hate the beach. I hate getting sand everywhere. I hate have to wash saltwater off of all my possessions. But I miss it when I'm away from it for too long. When I came home from Boulder this summer, I went to a beach with my sister and we just sat there. It was 6:30 on a weekday and there wasn't another human in sight- a rarity for Cape Cod beaches. I was reminded of all the reasons I love where I live and, while I was sad to be starting a long distance relationship and was resenting Massachusetts, simply because it wasn't Boulder, I felt a little better once the salty ocean air reached my nose. I sat on a blanket and played with the sand. I didn't care if I ended up with sand in my hair- I was perfectly content.

Even at five thousand calories per day, what you eat matters. It's easy to fantasize about what that much food might look like--stacks of greasy pizza, pints of creamy ice cream, a sloppy mess of a burgers.  And when you're walking 20 miles per day, why not indulge?  You've earned it, right?

Abso-freaking-lutely.

But, there is a caveat: what you eat on the trail is just as important as how much you eat.  Don't get me wrong, indulging will be awesome (and necessary for mental well-being, cause who wants to be completely regimented when having a good time is also a crucial goal?) but, as with most of life's pleasures, moderation is key.

After walking 100 miles in a week, damn straight I want to eat and enjoy a fat, sloppy burger!  But I have to remember that that burger is a carrot--a carrot dangling at the end of a series of many miles of mostly good eating decisions.

What do I mean by mostly good?  I'm referring to eating with goals in mind.  In the same way that psychological challenges on the trail need to be paced with long and short-term goals, so too do the food challenges.  I'll be writing a detailed nutrition post at a later time, but the general approach is to eat high-energy, fast acting foods while mobile, with well balanced foods (proper carb-to-protein ratios) reserved for times of rest and recovery--whether those be entire rest days or the inevitable periods throughout the day where we have to stall our journey.

It's easy to eat calories, but eating the right calories will make the difference between having the physical and mental energy to take another step or succumbing to exhaustion and lethargy.  Moreover, what we eat during the trail will carry over to how our body processes food after the trail.  Post-trail weight gain is a reality that can't be ignored (even for continually active people), but it can be avoided and managed with proper pacing on the trail.

Now again, to reiterate an earlier point, Callie and I want to and plan to indulge, but only as a way to reward ourselves for tackling our physical, mental, and dietary challenges, as well as a way to incentivize further advancement on the trail.  Because, after all, how much more appetizing would that carrot dangling just out or reach be if it were earned . . . and also a burger?

Perspective is everything.  As I write this, I’m the oldest I’ve ever been.  

I’ve lived on this planet for 25 years, through which time every interaction, every mistake – every random experience has led me to this moment.  What have I done with my life?  

Reflection.  It’s an ordinary and natural human tendency, yet it also has great power.  It has the potential to sink someone into a depression or lift one’s spirits high and inspire more.  In my second year removed from school, I find the former to be an easy place to inadvertently find myself.  After a very busy college life (we’re talking major burnout status, but in the best way possible), where I developed my closest and strongest bonds through a variety of social avenues with incredible people, it’s easy to feel like something is “missing” when routine sets in and the dredges of real-world monotony fill your life.  Suddenly the world seems to be the size of your commute to and from work, or the gym, or the grocery store. In these moments, choice becomes a powerful tool. I regularly remind myself that I chose everything about my current life.  I chose where I live, what I do for work, what hobbies I have.  It’s comforting knowing that I have control over these things.  Moreover, it’s liberating to realize I have the ability to change even more.

This leads me to the Appalachian Trail—a 2,200 mile choice that most people will never attempt, let alone finish.  If for no other reason, just the sheer magnitude of the challenge is enough of an incentive for me to try to conquer it.  On a more personal level, though, it’s an opportunity to find myself in a new way, to experience the world in a more raw form, and to build new memories upon which to reflect down the road. 

After all, perspective is everything.  I’m the youngest I’ll ever be again.  What will I do with my life?

I graduate in May. I have landed two internships at different reputable magazines, so naturally, people kind of tend to lean towards the belief that I have my life together and a job lined up for when I finish schooling. The conversation takes one of two directions when I tell them I plan on walking 2,100 miles from Maine to Georgia, through the woods. The first reaction is wide eyed amazement. I love this reaction. I get to talk about the trail and get people on the bandwagon. Hiking is cool now anyways, right?

The second reaction dampens my mood. It usually goes as follows:

"What are you doing after college? You probably have a job lined up already, right?"

"No, I'm actually hiking the Appalachian Trail starting in May!"

"That's cool, but what about after that?"

"Well I'll be gone for 5 months..,"

"You're taking 5 months... To hike...?"

"Yep, from Georgia to Maine!"

"...oh. Why?"

Why? Well because it's there and I want to. And because I don't want to be a real person just yet. I want to be free of responsibilities before I have to throw myself into the real world, paying bills, buying sofas, struggling to pay for a house I can't afford and everything else that comes with adulthood.

Now, I know adulthood isn't all bad. I mean, I can eat Easy Mac in my underwear in my own house, because it's my house and I do what I want. It's just that I would much rather be eating that same meal somewhere along the Appalachian Trail, listening to the sounds of nature and hoping no local bears have an appetite for dry pasta and powdered cheese.