Post Trail Depression is a real thing, and although I would not consider myself to have it, I can understand why former hikers fall into this depression. After being on such an incredible adventure, seeing the simple parts of life, changing, growing, and having a life with meaning, they come back to the real world to find a meaningless job, a materialistic lifestyle, and business that many people use to fill a void. It is no wonder they get depressed. People may expect them to be as they were before the trail, but they are not the same. They have seen and lived in a completely different way. They have faced challenges and overcome them. They have been exposed to different people and new ideas. They have had days, weeks, and months to reflect on who they are and who they want to be. They come home a changed person. But home hasn't changed. They come back to find everything as they left it. People are still doing their daily routines, the news still flashes pictures of war and devastation, politicians are still arguing and getting nowhere, people are still suffering from disease and violence, lives are still being broken, and homes are still being destroyed. After seeing such incredible kindness and experiencing a change on the trail, it would seem that the world should have changed as well. Because of this, it seems like the trail never happened at all... it was just a dream.
The first few days off trail were spent adjusting mentally to the fact that it was over, really over. My body was surprisingly ok, probably assuming we were taking another zero, and after a short day hike in Acadia NP it seemed to say "ahh yes, this is what we are supposed to be doing." But after sitting in a car for a few days, it started to question what was happening. I got extremely stiff and sore, my Achilles were rebelling, my digestion was messing up and I had headaches. Home was a welcome sight after the long road trip, and I quickly got to work cleaning and repairing my gear.
Physically it has been a conundrum of trying to let my body rest, but being careful not to gain weight back and keep my hard-earned muscles. I could find no information on how to recover physically from a thru-hike, so I was on my own to figure it out. They say it takes almost a month to recover from a marathon, so how long would that make a thruhike? Based on the mileage, the math shows it would take 7 years to recover. Whoa. It's a good thing that is probably not true. In order to keep my muscles I had worked so hard for, I started doing short runs and cardio a few times a week and some strength training. I quickly discovered sore muscles I didn't even know existed, but I felt good. I had been off-trail almost a month when I decided that my body had long enough to recover and attempted a ten mile run. I barely made four miles before I realized my body had not truly healed, and shuffled in pain four miles back to the car.
I had planned on running a marathon shortly after finishing (because I would already be in good shape from hiking, right?), but soon found this dream was irrational as my joints are still trying to repair themselves. I had been having pretty big Achilles tendinitis problems on the trail, but usually the morning pain faded as my muscles warmed up hiking. Now I am finally forced to address the issue.
Mentally, it has been... interesting... adjusting to home life. I am still amazed at the ease of getting clean water, the speed of cars now scares me (anything over 3mph is fast), my bed is too soft for comfort, the choice of outfit combinations is overwhelming, Netflix is now the greatest invention ever, and fresh picked vegetables have never tasted so good. I have to catch myself from responding "Arrow" when I introduce myself. I resist the urge to smile and wave at any big-bearded long-haired man or toned messy women, reminding myself this is not the place for thruhikers, and therefore the people who look like one probably just forgot to shave or take a shower, and would question my actions.
There was a moment of sadness the first time I drove to the store and walked in with a wallet and keys. Usually I approach stores after walking several miles, or riding in a shuttle, but I had driven there. The grocery store experience was bitter sweet. I strode down the isles, imagining what I would be buying if I was doing a resupply. I find it hard not to put oreos and cheese-its into my shopping basket. I stare at the pints of ice cream and reminisce on the days were I could polish off one with no remorse.
I spend my days doing various chores at home or helping my sister with her new house. I must keep myself busy or else I will go crazy. It is strange to see people blogging and talking about their 2017 thruhike when I have yet to process mine.
Even as my hip bruises and hand blisters are finally fading, not a day goes by when I don't think about the trail.