I tend to have great plans and lousy follow-through. This time around, I showed myself what I’m made of. July 29 was the big day. Mike’s 2 year death-iversary. Not sure what else to call it. It’s the suckiest day ever but I am so determined to make it fun and fabulous instead of sad. We did our big hike. 23.12 miles, most of which is over 8000 feet elevation. Huge undertaking. 29 hikers, 6 drivers, 11 hours, and a huge cheering section. It was extremely empowering. I cannot believe that I did it. When I drive 23 miles, it seems pretty far. Walking it in one day is unreal.

The day was gorgeous and I felt so unbelievably loved and supported.  I wanted to spread ashes every mile. After about Mile 7, I realized that crying and hiking don’t mix very well and dried the tears and got serious about hiking. I still spread ashes every mile, but managed it without the water works. We stopped at Mile 8 for lunch, a fill-up of water and a change of shoes. We had a few group pictures then off we went. 15 people had had enough, so the remaining 14 of us continued on at our own pace. There were some DIFFICULT times in the second part of the hike. I honestly questioned whether I could finish at about Mile 16, the mile from HELL. I was tired, felt foggy-headed, and my feet were on fire. I laid down for a bit, head downhill, feet up on a log. I ate a little bit of a pb&j sandwich, drank some water and SUCKED IT UP. Quitting was not an option. There are no roads on this hike, except for at the beginning, end, and where we had lunch. Well, except for LifeFlight. That was an option. And believe me, it was sounding pretty good. I was envisioning some smoking hot paramedics helping me get into the helicopter, saying “Great try, Kristie. Here’s a cold beer for your efforts.” Is faking a broken hip to get a helicopter ride a bad idea? I’m pretty sure I fixated on this brilliant plan for a solid mile or two.

There were 5 of us walking together at the end. Me and the 4 other kind souls who waited for me and finished with me, when I’m sure they would have rather hoofed it on out of there to be done. That means so much to me. With about 1.5 miles remaining, you walk around this big ridge and you can see the trailhead. Just before we rounded the corner, there were 5 Coors Lights sitting in the shade on the trail. The mountains on the can were blue-ish and it was quite possibly the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted. Is it pathetic to cry when you see a beer? I had just cried at the 20 mile mark, knowing that was the first time I’d ever gone that far under my own power. The beer sent me into a whole new crying jag. When we rounded the last corner, the cheering section had been watching for us with binoculars (probably under orders from my mom, who was scared to death I’d die a painful death out on the trail and was worried sick about me!) and they started honking and cheering. It was one of the most amazing things I’ve ever heard. That sound making its way up the canyon is something I’ll never forget. It will likely make me cry for the rest of my life, every time I think of it. It was something else.

The part of this journey that makes me the most proud is not so much the day of the hike. I really had no choice but to finish. The part that’s most impressive and the least “Kristie-like” is that I made a training plan and I followed that sucker, almost to the letter. It was difficult. We practically planned our Alaska trip around my walking schedule. I had to walk 3 miles on the ferry during one of the days were were traveling up. Around and around the boat. The windward side was slick from the mist and the wind was breathtaking, not in a good way. It didn’t even cross my mind to skip one of my walks. I walked many a mile, looking like a complete a-hole, with my bear spray in one hand, and my bear bell in the other. I had one of the best walks ever in Homer, AK, on a sunny day on the windy spit. 9 miles of thinking and walking. Day in, day out, I did not give up. Fear is quite the motivator. I was so deeply terrified of that hike. In a healthy way. In an I’m-going-to-kick-the-Elkhorn-Crest-Trail’s-ass sort of way. And most importantly, I was motivated by the fact that we were doing this for Mike. We were completing one of his bucket list items because he didn’t have the option of doing it for himself. I can let myself down. I’ve broken thousands of promises to myself. But, I can’t let him down. Just can’t do it.