Ouch
So many of you have probably had the misfortune of hearing me drone on and on about the time Brandon and I walked to Portsmouth NH and how the experience changed how we look at the world. Long story short, two rides from strangers took us some of the way there and most of the way back to a transcendental night on the beach. The experience has reverberated in our minds since and has taken on more meaning than any one experience in my entire life. We decided that it had been like 3 years and we were going to do it all again.
The difference: we started walking at like 9pm. Nobody picked us up. We walked the entire distance in horrible flat soled shoes. We walked about 10 miles and couldn't go on so we spent 3 hours on a freezing, bug infested beach huddled out of sight against a sea wall and then walked the remaining half dozen or so miles with the rising sun. We walked through narrow roads with cars honking at us in pitch darkness. We saw a deer where 1A ceases to be a coastal road and enters what is literally a wall of forest. We walked all through Rye again.
The pain that I felt, was the most intense, consistant pain i think i have ever felt. My feet are torn to shreds. My souls ache and the sides of my feet burn from walking on them when I couldn't walk flat footed anymore. I literally waddled the last 5 miles or so. Then we got lost in Portsmouth, took a bus as far South as we could and I called a god damned cab.
Someday I will appreciate this I am sure. The only thing i got out of it so far though was that while my family and I were driving home from NY at 2 AM on what is just the latest in several sub par birthdays, and my mom was freaking out because we were lost and it was pouring was this thought: "Pssst at least I'm not still walking through fucking Rye at 2 am"
The difference: we started walking at like 9pm. Nobody picked us up. We walked the entire distance in horrible flat soled shoes. We walked about 10 miles and couldn't go on so we spent 3 hours on a freezing, bug infested beach huddled out of sight against a sea wall and then walked the remaining half dozen or so miles with the rising sun. We walked through narrow roads with cars honking at us in pitch darkness. We saw a deer where 1A ceases to be a coastal road and enters what is literally a wall of forest. We walked all through Rye again.
The pain that I felt, was the most intense, consistant pain i think i have ever felt. My feet are torn to shreds. My souls ache and the sides of my feet burn from walking on them when I couldn't walk flat footed anymore. I literally waddled the last 5 miles or so. Then we got lost in Portsmouth, took a bus as far South as we could and I called a god damned cab.
Someday I will appreciate this I am sure. The only thing i got out of it so far though was that while my family and I were driving home from NY at 2 AM on what is just the latest in several sub par birthdays, and my mom was freaking out because we were lost and it was pouring was this thought: "Pssst at least I'm not still walking through fucking Rye at 2 am"