Clear the Debts, Break the Chains

Last month I turned 30.
Nicole bought me a book that chronicled a middle-aged man's thru hike of the Appalachian Trail, after his wife had died of cancer.

The book is an OK read. Not an amazing read, but good enough to reignite my need to get on the trail and get lost for 3 or 4 months.

While I love reading of others' adventures, the stories are terrible for my mental health. I am again faced with the frustration of the material, bill-paying, working, "real world" holding me back.

I have seen what is it like to do nothing but hike everyday.
I have eaten poptart peanut butter sandwiches, and had coffee that was more grounds than liquid.
I have gone 12 days without bathing.
I have hit the sack at 7pm with the sunset, and woken at 5 with the sunrise.
And I miss it. So much that at times I can't bear the idea of assimilation into the "real world".

What is it about the trail that people obsess about?
Maybe it's the scenery or the people one meets. Perhaps its the daily use of gear, or the idea of doing something others deem as hardcore.
For me, being in the woods, with only one purpose is the true and simplest definition of being alive.
It's eating, drinking, moving, sleeping.
Everything else that we do- all of the problems we have- are because of the choices we made for ourselves. Most of them come down to money. You must work to buy the things in your life. But what do you REALLY NEED for things?

"Man is the only kind of varmint that sets his own trap, baits it, then steps in it," John Steinbeck said.

Fuck "things". I still have no car. Still ride my bike that I bought for $75 everywhere. There was a time I owned a vehicle. During that time, I was constantly treading water, trying to get ahead... only to be held down by tires, brakes, insurance, repairs, and by going places, and doing things I didn't need to be doing. The road to financial and life freedom was blocked by an insurmountable wall of my own creation.

Now, that wall is a small concrete barrier, and I am the tractor trailer truck in the distance, revving up to shatter that shit.
I am perhaps a little over a year away from being debt free. To have debt is to be a slave to the world, and being a slave is a burden that has grown tiresome for me, just 12 years into adulthood.

It's time to clear the debts, and break the chains. The trail looms.

kp

Living Indoors vs Living Hard: Exploring Optimal Challenge in Life

It's hard to believe, but during the last 14 months I've spent all of my nights indoors.

There hasn't been a stretch this long since 2009. A lot has changed. I can't say it's better or worse, just different.

Seems like just yesterday when I nervously put all of my worldly belongings in the basement of Mojo, and decided I'd be sleeping wherever I felt like laying my head.
Drifting. Homeless by choice.

I miss waking up with the sun, and taking a piss wherever and whenever I want.
Having one dish.
Only worrying about what to wear because of the weather.
Cycling to where I'm going to sleep.
Hiking to where I'm going to sleep.
Having a bad night of sleep because of weather or animals outside your tent.
Having an awesome sleep the next night.
The word "amazing" gets entirely too much use nowadays, but riding the highs and lows of outdoor living carries the most amazing package of feelings in the world. It is simple and extreme.

I've become more civilized since coming out of the woods late last September. Even out of the woods though, I was living hard up until April or so of this year, commuting 60 miles a day, 4-5 times a week on my bike through the winter, and working 3 and 4 jobs at a time...one of them overnight. It was a struggle that I grew to love. Every day was a new adventure. What do I wear? How bad are the roads? My feet are frozen...guess I better run with my bike until they thaw.

While I was in hell then, waking up from 1 hour sleeps and having to sprint on my bike for an hour and half to get to work, I look fondly back on those days. I think we all have times of struggle that we can remember, but appreciate them for making us tougher people. We do things sometimes because we have to pay the bills.

*****

Now that I work 3 minutes away from where I live, something's missing.
I've read about optimal challenge before. In order to stay focused, happy, and motivated, one needs to have a goal just out of reach, but ultimately reachable if enough work and effort is put in. A carrot on a string? I can't help but wonder if this feeling is the "depression" that so many people in our country deal with.

Let's face it, as a whole we aren't worried about our next meal. We are skating through life. Surviving isn't even on our radar. We are head and shoulders over "just surviving" because gas is $3.50 a gallon and cigarettes are $7.00 a pack, and we still buy it. We are still paying $3 at Starbucks for coffee. We are force fed by the media that our economy is bad, but in reality it won't be "bad" until a majority of us are going by foot or bike, and that 20 minute drive to the city to get groceries is not an option. And then is that even bad? You'd spend your money at the local stores.

Would it be terrible if we couldn't afford cable or DISH?
Would the world end if you couldn't pay that extra $30-$50 for your data package?
What would you do with all the extra time you'd have if you couldn't get internet at home?

Maybe the USA could use some more Optimal Challenge. Maybe the economy should get "bad", so we can fight more for what we have. It wouldn't hurt anyone in this country to live a little harder and be a little more minimal...it may just make us happier.


kp

Mitchell Place (Just)

looking through the glass
two stories from the street
i see no vista, vast
just corners where roads meet

a frantic life could be at ease
but the cars and trucks: incessant
i never hear a mountain breeze
just disturbances domestic

could a trail or run or even beer
remove me from this world, on screech?
i feel no sense of home right here
the life i want is....

just out of reach


kp

Fall Winds Always Bring Change

Cars whiz by on 106, just a hundred yards from my doorstep.
Tractor trailers shake the apartment as they rumble by.

I look out the window in my kitchen, with hopes of seeing a vista and beautiful foliage adorning multiple mountainsides. Nope, just more apartments. We went to the Deerfield Fair yesterday. I can't help but think of how we are just like the chickens at the show, all cooped up in our own individual cages. I gotta get out of this town.

The Deca Iron, once a distant dream, now looms just under 3 weeks away.

Like the seasons from Summer to Autumn, things are changing for me. Priorities? It's been an ongoing thing for a year or so. Last year, I crossed the finish line at the Triple Iron and felt....absolutely nothing.
While riding solo at the ADK540 a couple weeks ago, I could feel it come to a head. I was alone and suffering, which is usually a condition I like to be in...but this time I felt lonely.

"Happiness is only real when shared", wrote Chris McCandless in his dying days.

I've spent years chasing this Deca, at the expense of time with friends, jobs, relationships, and money. In training for the Deca, there can be no balance.
People always ask me how I do it. It is simple.

In exchange for fitness, all one needs to do is fall out of touch with friends, have sporadic contact with family, not have a vehicle, and numb your mind to the rigors of physical activity.





"I can't help but think of how we are just like the chickens at the show, all cooped up in our own individual cages. I gotta get out of this town."
I'm here because of me.
It's time to move myself up.

After the Deca, I'll be stepping back from multi-day racing and focusing a lot more on a normal, simple, balanced, full life. I often refer to my life as a bowling ball going down the beginner aisle, bouncing from bumper to bumper. Maybe it's time to take the bumpers down and roll the ball straight.

Training vs. Adventuring: A Mindset

Training.
"I gotta do a tempo run at 70% of my max heart rate and not spike into level 2, or else it'll really hurt my speed workout on friday."

Some people really thrive on that shit, and that is totally cool. I know a lot of athletes who need a structured routine to help motivate them and stay focused on a daily basis. Respect to them. Can't do it.

If I woke up one morning in March and knew the rest of my workouts for the entire season were planned, I'd eat a bowl of cereal, and use mercury in place of milk.
Training.
I hate training.

I want everyday to be a spontaneous adventure, always with potential for something to go wrong. I know what needs to happen before race day, but until that month or so before, I want to wake up and be excited about what I could do on the given day.

Today I filled a pack with food, water, and running gear. Pulled on my bike shorts and a cutoff tee, and took off on the single-speed. Destination: anywhere I could lock up my bike and run trails all day.

90 minutes later, I'm humping my bike up a pitch in the sun. Sweat pouring off me while I "spin" at 10 rpm. The road kicks up again... and just like that, I'm walking my bike up a hill for the first time in 20 years. For 30 seconds, I am completely naked in the middle of the road while I change into my running gear. Bike shoes off, pavement hot on feet, running shorts on, shoes on, GO.

Now I'm running up a 20% grade with my pack swaying back and forth, bike handlebars wobbling, because my left arm is swinging for momentum, and my right hand is holding the bars.

At the top is a glorious field with a panorama of small mountains. Lakes Region to the southwest, far below.
I lock up my bike and start running.

4 hours later, I pop out of the woods, sunburned, dehydrated, and crazed with hunger. To my dismay, the store by the trailhead does not take cards, so I stagger across the field with a mouth full of cotton balls, unlock my bike, risk being caught for indecent exposure once again, and point my front wheel down the road I was forced to run up earlier.

Within 20 minutes, I'm buying gas station food and liquids as though the end of the world were going to happen any second.
I take them out to the bench, where the employees likely go for smoke breaks, scarf it all down, and revel in the mental images of the day:

Bridle-path style trails, rocky outcroppings with amazing lake views, isolated single-track amongst thick evergreens, bogs, and a grassy, seemingly never-ending descent back to civilization.

Train....no thanks.
I'd rather Adventure.

krp

Apparition

gray light infiltrates
a shadeless window

another night has passed
but the buildings still surround me

words, people
information from every angle

the chip on my shoulder
becomes a brick on my chest

suffocation.

anonymity
the new final frontier

oh, to be adrift
ghostly vagabonding
one second here
and vanishing the next

in this world of maps and science and
absolute knowledge

how i long to be lost

Until The Next Life, Adrianne

I have a habit of ignoring important feelings.

It's how I deal with things that are hard to comprehend. The other way is writing. I struggled with what blog I should write this under. Path Less Taken, or Tentman. Then I realized it doesn't even matter.
I just need to get this out in words.

The details are now out about how a friend from high school was murdered, and stories are popping up all over the web.
When I heard last week that homicide was on the case, i questioned whether I wanted to know the details. I have no precedent personally, but I assumed that maybe it would be better if I could just imagine my own better version of how things transpired.
Unfortunately I was right.

You always read these stories. You never think you're going to know the person you read about.
Reading the article, memories start coming back.

The smile and laugh that sets them apart from everyone else you know.
Sitting together in English and making driving noises when the big trucks went by our room. Dating for a week freshman year, and being silly and immature, but still being cool enough to be friends after.

And then you read the dark details, and wonder just how in the hell someone so vibrant, with so much going on in life, can have
things end so abruptly, and in such horrible fashion. The situation is just not fair, and I am mortified for her family, and her would-be fiance.

Adrianne, not much can be said that hasn't already. We miss you and are so sorry that things had to end this way. I hope you are in a peaceful place.
See you when we get there.

krp

From the Sun Journal:
CLEARWATER, Fla. — Adrianne Robert, 29, of Clearwater, a former resident of Greene and Lewiston, went home to her Lord on Saturday, July 14, at her home.


Adrianne Robert

She was born in Brunswick, Jan. 4, 1983, the beloved daughter of Mark and Delores (Dimino) Robert. Attending local schools, Adrianne was a graduate of Leavitt High School, Class of 2001, and a graduate from the University of Maine at Augusta, Class of 2005. Moving to Florida in 2007, she also attended the University of Southern Florida, St. Petersburg.

A gifted artist and graphic designer, Adrianne’s passion for the arts allowed her to pursue her dreams of working in the graphic design and marketing industry. Starting her brilliant career in Lewiston, she was employed by the Lewiston Sun Journal as a page designer, followed by her employment at several well-known and well established businesses within various Florida communities, including work at the Hilton Hotel as the E-Commerce manager as well as their director of catering and marketing, Gaspers Grotto as the assistant event coordinator and the Holiday Inn Development Corp., as marketing manager. Her successful creativity in the marketing industry along with her drive and passion to help promote small businesses, allowed her to start her own company, Splatter Concepts Incorporated, which she managed with love, pride and commitment, a spirit which could be felt by all who worked alongside her.

Her dedication to her career did not prevent her from enjoying life. An avid runner, Adrianne competed in several running events with close friends. She enjoyed photography and painting, traveling, as well as spending time with her family and the many wonderful and dear friends who would soon become a part of her own extended family. Having found the man of her dreams, Adrianne was to spend the rest of her life with her loving fiance, Justin Pounders. Justin and Adrianne were a shining example of love at first sight and that true love does exist. Her passion for life and the spark she shared with those who were lucky enough to have known her will be an everlasting testament of how she lived, living each day as if it was her last. She will be sadly missed but her loving memory will live on forever.

Adrianne is survived by her loving parents, Mark and Lori Robert of Greene; her brother, James Michael Martin and his wife, D.J., of Lisbon; her paternal grandparents, Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Robert; a great-aunt, Lorraine Philippon; her aunt and uncle, Ron and Cindy Boisvert; an aunt, Pat McCutcheon; one nephew, James Dillon; her fiance, Justin Pounders of St. Petersburg, Fla.; several cousins; and many friends.

Adrianne was predeceased by her maternal grandparents, Hazel and Carl Dimino.

Summer On the Inside Looking Out: Ruminations of an Outdoor Dweller

Today I saw a picture from the Mount Washington Observatory that brought some things from my past back to me in a startlingly vivid manner.
Rime ice and snow thickly coated the tower at the top of the mountain. It was about this time last year I began my first stint as a Back Country Caretaker in the Pemigewasset Wilderness, on the side of Mount Garfield...4000 feet above the sea.

I went to my room, reached to the top of my closet, into a bag I have full of random writings. In it, I keep my handwritten journal from my summer in the mountains. I thumbed through it.
I wrote everyday up there. Once in the morning, and often in the afternoon. It still smells like the woods.

To be a Caretaker in the back country is a practice in learning where the grass is really green. To walk in the woods, knowing you won't look at a computer screen, hear a car go by, eat a pizza, or shower for the next ten days is an exciting experience, until the 6th day, when all you want is a pizza, shower, and to check your email. You work when you want, but more importantly, you hike.

You hike every trail near your site, which you are responsible for, for an entire summer and part of fall.
Once you've hiked every trail, you try to do it faster.
Once you're bored with that, you start trying to find new shit that perhaps no one has seen before by braving the krummholz and bushwhacking to areas that others don't dare to go.

What I knew about this while I was doing it, was that all of this adventuring was ridiculously fun. I found cliffs, waterfalls, a dead moose at 3800 feet, and more unknown vistas than any trail-walker could ever think about looking from. I knew the wilderness in that area just as well as the animals that dwelled there, because I DID dwell there, loathing extended rainy periods and seemingly coming alive in the sunny days that followed. After each 10 day stint, I walked out of the woods, pondering whether I WAS one of those critters.

What I know about this now, is that to know an area of rugged wilderness that intimately is a life-changing experience.
Knowing every rock in the trail. After a night of wild winds, to be able to notice which branches broke from any given tree in any given spot around the site. To see the incredible impact that foot traffic has on a mountain over the course of just one season.

I have not lived indoors during the summer in 3 years. It blows my mind to think of where I was at in my life during that season 3 years ago. I owned a Land Rover. I had a dog. I had a fiance. I lived next to a drug dealer who beat his pregnant 17 year old girlfriend.

The things that happen to us are surely on purpose and part of a plan we can never understand- this I have learned. Now, I sometimes look at the transients around town and sympathize with their plight, but wish that just for a moment, I could be living their renegade life... going wherever the weather takes them. Everyday a different and new adventure.

Thanks for reading,
krp