Close your eyes.
Imagine rain, lots of it.
Everything around you is wet, muddy. You’re shivering, your clothes are drenched.
You can’t change in a warm pajamas and drink hot chocolate in the comfort of your house, while watching the raindrops adornate the window.
All you can do it’s hoping it’ll stop at some point. It’s been like this for five days now, and you’re way beyond fed up of this situation.
From Hot Springs, NC, to Erwin, TN, it has been a 70-mile journey in mud and rain. The pace slowed down this past week, more out of necessity than a preplanned schedule.
The main goal was trying to keep our feet on the ground, avoiding to bust our asses, rather than crushing miles on the mountains.
It was a mentally challenging week, partially alleviated by a birthday celebration and the happiness for reaching the 300-mile mark.
I dreamed of hot showers every single day, but the thing I was missing the most was my shadow.
“Where’s the goddamn sun!” I’d hopelessly think over and over, because I knew it wasn’t going to show up any time soon.
On Saturday, when even my bones were starting to get wet, it appeared.
It was a fleeting moment, a minute of pure happiness.
It first kissed my shoulders, then it wrapped my whole body and gently raised my chin. A sudden feeling of warmth started to spread all over me. I was a new person, I was energized.
The sun left without notice. Its visit was brief yet powerful.
“It’ll come back”, I thought, while looking at the clouds dissipating down the valley.
I reached Erwin, still wet and cold. I showered, ate, and washed my clothes. The sun came back, this time to stay a little longer. We spent some time by the river together, enjoying the view of the green mountains all around.
I know it’ll leave me again eventually, but even a minute of its presence will be enough to give me all I need to keep going.
Days of rain debilitate, a minute of sun rejuvenates.
In Walk We Trust,
The Walking Fed