Here I go again on my own...

Well, my first attempt at the Colorado Trail turned out to be the Colorado fail. Feeling a little like Hillary, I walked out of the wilderness beaten and defeated. I never saw the failure coming and haven’t felt complete since. Perhaps it is the side effects of being a first responder (and all the hidden garbage that brings) or perhaps the utter devastation one feels when you find you will never be in the macaroni and cheese scooping hall of fame. Hoping to capture something tangible and worthwhile, I found myself praying daily to make a difference at the Marriott. Never finding that job satisfaction that I had once become accustomed, the has-been found himself feeling even more washed up.


With 80 acres to wander about, I had the perfect job to help me prepare for the Trail. I tried to keep a record of the miles walked but kept breaking the pedometers. My informed and well thought out research and data using the SWAG  method(Scientific Wild Arse Guess)  would suggest somewhere in the range of 1500-2000 miles over this past year. That is a lot of shoe leather and a lot of time to think.  As time went on, the grumpy turned to anger which fueled the fire or quenched the passion. I’m not sure which.


As I struggled to keep the smile on outside, the rage boiled inside. As perfect timing has a divine way of showing up at the perfect time, my Geezer buddy Rodney sent out a somewhat generic post on Facebook. An article on first responders and how they are often thrown away. In the article, the officer reported feeling “numb, irritable and restless.” That caught my attention. Another article posted by the same Geezer, offered some insight as to what was/is going on inside. “It is further suggested that officers continue to experience residual trauma even after separating from police service. A residual stress hypothesis proposes that prior trauma exposure leaves residual effects that are widespread, deep and long lasting.” Who knew?


Numb, irritable and restless: three simple words I have never used in a sentence before but have become my mantra for some attempt at once again making myself whole again. I stayed numb for quite a while as I realized this was an unlikeable but fair description of who I have become. Perhaps the details of the article lay the groundwork as to why I have become such an angry bitter old has-been (most likely before my time).  And to make matters worse, I am going bald. It won’t be too much longer until I have enough forehead for four heads. Oh the drama…


So, what does this all mean? I do not know. I hope I can find what I am looking for on the Trail. Perhaps this is just a giant waste of time, energy and freeze-dried food. In the meantime, I am preparing for the worse, hoping for the best and packing my five-day underwear and the two-ply roll. I have shaved off as much weight as I can so as to maintain a reasonable sense of comfort. Of course, this does not account for my 85 pounds of medications. Better hiking through modern chemistry, I suppose.


 I guess I just have to figure out how to be ok when I’m not ok. If your insomnia is getting the better of you, please join me on this venture, wherever it takes us. I would offer that I am seeking my own Rocky Mountain High but with Colorado’s new weed laws, I don’t want to have to pee in a cup when I get home. I won’t be able to blog too much in the backcountry, but I will write and take copious notes on my adventures or lack thereof and will write about it when I get home (maybe finally get that book written). I was talked into getting an Instagram account, look for republicanhippy1150.
Also, if you are still wide awake, you can also go to my other Facebook page “We Could go Hiking on Tuesday” where it will automatically update as I go along.


Thanks for reading and following my ramblings. Good thoughts are always appreciated, while prayers are coveted and beseeched. I am not sure where the trail will take me but mostly, I hope it takes me home. Just sayin’…