Days 56-63: On Task

MURRAY CITY, OH —

May 19-26, 2024

Days 56-63:

The other day, Greg texted me a video clip titled “Paralyzed Man Completes Marathon.” In the clip, a young man named Tim, who had been told by doctors he would never walk again, is shown throwing down his trekking poles a few strides before the finish line and walking through it unassisted.

“This is what life is all about,” I replied. “It is worthwhile to dream and dream big.”

Crossing into Ohio with 3 states of 12 under my belt, I have developed an ever-growing appreciation for the phrase “one step at a time” as I enter the Midwest with this big dream of ours still intact. I can see the obstacles I’ve had to overcome over the last 670 miles as stepping stones toward a greater understanding of something I will never understand in full, which is to say I surrender to not knowing more than I need to each day out here on the road. One does not need to know everything to be certain it seems; a consistent belief in the passing of the next 24 hours will do.

Since arriving in Ohio, I’ve spent a night under a pavilion at Veto Lake, where trail angel Debbie brought me a snack care package.

I’ve slept in the basement of a restaurant called the Triple Nickel, where I was served two delicious meals.

I’ve had a stay in a gazebo along a pond, thanks to trail angel Billie.

I’ve spent one night in a tent at the outskirts of Burr Oak State Park.

Tonight, I am pitching my tent behind another restaurant in Murray City, called American Legion Post 420.

We are expecting heavy thunderstorms. Further west, potential tornadoes touching down. I am happy to be safe and dry tonight.

My strength is returning to me, my mileage is looking more steady, but my words have been arranged in a punch-list format since I caught norovirus in West Virginia. I find myself thinking in a clipped formulaic language. A mental lens of ‘task incomplete or complete, and adjust for efficient completion’ covers the span of all my thoughts.

I’ve not written the last few days because of this. I wanted something more flavorful from my mind soup's broth. That is a fool’s errand. A disguise for perfectionism, something that will get you killed on the road. We live. We dream. Clipped, punch-list language it is for now.

Perhaps there is merely something simple that need be expressed:

The other night, when trail angel Billie’s neighbor brought his terrier Mitzi over to the house, she jumped on my lap and would not stop giving me kisses all over my face. I was giggling uncontrollably like a “toddler child,” as Greg referred to himself in his most recent entry. It was one of the happiest moments I’ve experienced on this walk.

While Mitzi doused me in smooches, all my punch-list saturated mind could think was, ‘you’re on task.'

She then drove off into the sunset on an ATV, her owner waiving goodbye for her.

That anecdote feels right.

I’m grateful Greg carried me today with the powerful words from his entry. Whatever my words lack, his possess.

Pleased to hear you’re back on the page, Greg. Getting back from a spinal cord injury is perhaps the hardest part of the game. How does it feel to return to the river, where your words flow beautifully?

- Zach