Cut a Broad Swath

Robbie Mason takes over the blog again with his recent (mis)adventure on a very technical section of the Appalachia Trail in PA...

Immediately I knew it was going to be a rough day when I stepped out of my car. I was attempting to do a solo 18 mile out-and-back on a rocky section of the AT near Hamburg, PA and realized I left my Salomon vest with water and gels at home. Already drove an hour. Not turning back now. Like always, I let the excitement of time in the mountains get the best of me and set off way too fast. Forgot there was a 1000ft ascent in the first 0.75 miles. Headphones broke like mile 1 as well which was a nice touch. Once I started to catch my breath at the top of the mountain I began to feel the full effects of the wind. The trail followed a fairly exposed ridgeline for the next two miles as I got punished by the wind, unprepared in only shorts and a long sleeve half-zip. Only 5 miles in and I was not in a good spot mentally. The elevation change was taking a lot of energy out of me and I knew I would bonk eventually without food or water. Then it started to rain. Fuck me, I thought. If lightning comes I do not want to be the tallest thing on this ridgeline. My next two miles were close to 8 min pace. Funny how great a motivator fear is. About 8 miles in I stopped at the turnaround point. Took 10min to take in the view, but I knew the more I'm not moving the colder I'll get. 14 in I was bonking hard. I was thinking about bumming some water off of someone, but I didn't see another soul the entire day. Half way up the big ascent on the way back I put my face in the white water of a spring. Knowing it was mostly snow runoff I figured it was safe to drink. Who knows if it actually was. I was thankful to see my car. The rocky trail had punish my feet and knees. I immediately drove the the WaWa half a mile away and bought a gallon of water. 

I usually go on adventures and run trails with others. Running alone is different. No music. No conversation. I only heard the wind and tress for more than 3 hours. It heightens your fear, running alone. You have no one to distribute this fear or share the fear with either. Are you still on the trail? How much water do you have left? Don't turn an ankle or you're dragging it out yourself. It is a visceral and pure 1-on-1 confrontation with the mountains. When its done, you take all the credit. There is no one to share in you're happiness. Perhaps we need this once in a while. It is a test of how we measure up against ourselves.