Last week, I went to naked yoga. And for whatever reason, I wasn’t all that nervous about it. People would say things like “you’re crazy” or “you’re so brave,” and I wanted to be like “dude, it’s just yoga…without clothes. What’s so weird about that?”

Okay. It’s a little weird.

To be fair, I’m pretty comfortable in my own skin (and I guess down-dogging with other random strangers). I have no qualms about only working out in a sports bra, since I’ve been doing it since high school track. I sleep naked, shower naked, and sometimes even cook naked. (Ovens = hot enough.) And since yoga is all about connecting with our inner core, and is so mental and spiritual and yogi buzz word buzz word, I thought it would be cool to practice without any physical barriers — rooting to the ground, no clothes included.

However, I started to feel pretty nervous once we got to the studio. It was in a building with eight or so floors, but when we said “Floor 2” to the doorman, I could only imagine he was thinking “THEY’RE GOING TO THE NAKED CLASS.” Then we reached the studio, and I gawked at every person: “Are they in the class too?” “Will they potentially be staring at my vagina in about ten minutes?” “Will they like my cool bra?” And it all felt..a little weird

I went with two of my co-workers, which supposedly makes things even weirder; there was no way to escape into an abyss of anonymity. The three of us met the teacher, Cindee Rifkin, who immediately made me feel better. She gave us a huge hug, then we walked upstairs to a small studio. There were nine of us in total — four girls and five guys — and after a few minutes of small-talk, Cindee told us to start taking off our clothes in whichever way was most comfortable.

I immediately took everything off, and sitting on my mat, completely naked, I finally felt fine OK — when everyone is in a room…without clothes on…it stops being weird.

Then we all went around to introduce ourselves: “Hi I’m Laura, and I’m naked?” along with saying something that was feeling “off” in our bodies, or simply our world, and how we wanted to go about fixing it. I retracted from “baring it all” on the non-physical side of things, and told the class I had a headache. (To be fair, I was hungover.) Then we went to the first pose.

Of course it Baddha Konasna, aka sitting spread eagle and trying to stretch your hips to the ground. After exposing my vagina to eight other classmates (I feel like I’ve typed vagina more in the last 10 minutes than I have in the last 10 years) we moved to inversions on the wall. From there, we began doing some sun salutations, and then…I had a moment.

We were doing half-moon, a pose I really really love, but have trouble getting into the full expression. On the second side, Cindee came around and told me I was almost there, and I should try to open up a little more and fold my hands at my heart. As soon as I tried to move my arms, I began to lose my balance, so she came over to me. Her naked hip was against mine as her body supported me and led me into the full expression. I had never done it before, and here we were, two strangers and our naked and beautiful bodies next to one another. I was definitely saying “I’m having a moment..I’m having a moment..I’m having a moment” in my head. It was cool.

To be honest, the class itself was not incredibly (physically) challenging. I like faster paced vinyasa classes, and this one was a lot slower with a lot of breath work. And had I been clothed, I probably would have been a tad disappointed and gone straight to the track for 200m repeats. But that really wasn’t the point. The class helped me realize that the way our bodies look shouldn’t be that big of a deal; it’s far less important than what they do for us. I felt strong standing in Warrior II and looking down to see my whole body. This body is what allows me to do this pose, and the one after that, and the one after that. It’s what allows me to run marathons injury free, travel around the world, and have enough energy throughout the day. This body, right here, fuels me. Not a body five pounds lighter, or a body with a six-pack, or a body with crazy calf muscles or bigger breasts (though hey, breasts – can we work on that?). The body I was staring down at, perfect in its imperfections, has and continues to give so much to me. So how could I ever be upset with it?

Perhaps the thing I loved most, though, were the connections we made after class. The one thing I typically don’t like about yoga classes is that everyone tends to seem a little “standoffish.” I always feel weird saying hello to anyone after a class, even when people are so moved they clap afterwards. But once you practice next to people butt naked, holding up a conversation afterwards aint no thang. It was fun talking to the others, most of whom are regulars, and learning why they go. Some are simply curious (aka me), others are working on body issues, and others are nudists simply working on their chair pose.

So – final verdict? Naked yoga was definitely worth experiencing, and helped me realize hangin’ out sans clothing should be something we all do a little more often. As Shana gracefully noted in her article on it for Greatist, “We were still us, just naked.” Exposing yourself doesn’t have to always be sexualized, or taboo, or just plain uncomfortable. It can be freeing and fun, and a good reminder that we’re b-e-a utiful just as we are, and should thank our bare bodies for all the crazy wonderful things they do for us.

Namaste/let me know if you want to go to a class,

As of late, here are some things I am really enjoying:

Medium. Medium is a new social platform where people can write about, well, anything. I kind of view it as a Thought Catalog that actually publishes good content; posts are longer than 140 characters (finally!) though many are still shorter than a typical guest blog post. The stories are useful, funny, and well-written. The constant feed emulates a Twitter feed in some ways, making the writing and reading seem collaborative and social, though the thoughts are less fleeting. Medium is still in beta, so I’m anxiously awaiting the ability to submit some drafts — though most of the writers on there see kinda “famous” so I don’t know when my turn will be. Sad.
Some stories I’ve enjoyed:
It’s Not That Difficult
How To Be Happy
Why I Love Twitter and Barely Tolerate Facebook

Heirloom Tomatoes. Holy bananas. (Or tomatoes?) I went to the farmer’s market yesterday to pick up some fresh veggies for a dinner party, and they ended up only having heirloom tomatoes — which are mad moneys. Then, I decided to JFDI and purchased a beautiful, plump, delicious-looking tomato for…$4.50. I died a little inside, but when we sliced that baby up, sprinkled on a little salt, and ate away, I died a little inside again, this time going straight to tomato heaven. 

Daft Punk. I’ve always liked Daft Punk — but it wasn’t until their latest album Random Access Memories came out did I start to fall in love. This album is a lot more mellow than the French duo’s normal repertoire, but it has such an amazing groove and the arrangements are out of this world. (And hey, Pitchfork liked it too, which isn’t a bad thing.) My favorite tune is probably “Doin’ It Right,” which may be because I hold a soft spot for Panda Bear. (Who’s featured in it.) I seriously think the only way someone could convince me to go to Da Club is if Daft Punk was playing all night.

Gin. Whiskey will always be #1 in my heart, but for some reason, I’ve been on a crazy gin kick as of late. I think I’m channeling my inner Jordan Shakeshaft, because all I want when it’s hot out and I’m sitting outside is a refreshing gin and soda with lots n’ lots of lime. Or a gin martini with extra olives and a really adorable olive pick-thing and a really awesome friend to go with it. 

Ignore the YOLO

Bocce. I love lawn games (bocce, horseshoes, croquet, sholf, etc) especially when there is a beer in my other hand, a bunch of friends partaking, and a barbecue going. And this 4th of July, I got to get my dose of lawn games without a lawn down in Brooklyn at Greenwood Park. I was even partnered up with this Italian gentleman, whose English is as good as his bocce skills. (We lost.) 

Long Island City. Speaking of being outdoors, my brother, sister-in-law, and I discovered the beauty that is Long Island City. Their park is only a few subways stops from where we live, and is pretty big and pretty beautiful. There are tons of places to lie out, cool benches and lounge chairs to sit on, small walking paths, and a few playgrounds. And apparently there’s free yoga and kayaking on the weekends, and light shows at night. I dig it. NATURE!

Treadmills. WHAT?! Yeah. I’ve barely been able to run over five miles (still…) and have been frustrated beyond belief. I finally gave in and tried to see if I’m awfully out of shape, or if a lot of it is the stupid heat and if I’d feel OK on the dreadmill. I went to the gym this AM, hopped on my “lucky” treadmill (#17), busted out Pandora’s top hits playlist, and ran for a glorious 60 minutes. And I oddly loved every single step of it … because I felt like myself again. And I haven’t run that long (sadly) in FOREVER. And right now my legs feel sore and tired and I’m loving every ounce of it. 

Friendship is the best ship. Also, yolo. 

I’ve been thinking about this a lot: listening to your body. And when I went to a hot yoga class last night (which in the humid summer is a HOT mess) our teacher also decided to theme the class around listening to the body: doing whatever felt right, felt challenging, didn’t sacrifice the breath. You know, yoga talk. 

What’s crazy to me is that so many people don’t listen to their bodies, and because of it, feel like crap. Our body is us —it’s our self telling us what we need, what we want, and what we don’t want. For the most part, it doesn’t have a stupid mind attached to it that gets all deep and introspective and cries watching Upworthy videos about birds or time-lapses about bugs. (I swear…WHY?) No — our body feels what it feels cause that’s what’s going on, plain and simple.

But actually listening to what it says? Not so plain and simple. 

I remember Molly telling me once she was running a tough track workout and knew she just felt wrong. She walked off the track early, and said “sometimes you just have to respect your body.” As someone who is inherently stubborn, this has stuck with me. I have gone on countless runs when I know I shouldn’t have — where I felt super tired or had a tinge of pain in a leg or foot, but felt that I should keep pushing anyway, that the concept of going on a run overruled my own damn body saying “stop.” The same goes with yoga; I had to jump off the competitive, ego train and realize that a modification is cool, and jumping into child’s pose is even cooler. (Fun fact: For the first year of yoga I did not allow myself to skip a pose and go into child’s pose. #notzen.) 

On the food front, intuitive eating simply means to eat when we’re hungry and stop when we’re satisfied. And it sounds like such a simple concept, but geez it’s hard. But just because it’s “dinner time” doesn’t mean you need to eat if you’re not hungry. And if you ate lunch two hours ago and are for whatever reason starving, then eat again. Moreover, so many people are also telling us “eat meat!” “don’t eat red meat!” “don’t eat sugar!” “carbs = energy!” and yet none of these people (none!) know what your body needs. How it feels. Only you know what you need, and believe me, your body will tell you. 

Lastly: gut. I swear my intuition is right nearly 100% of the time. It’s like my body just knows when something’s up. It’s hardest for me to really listen in, but I at least try. Respect that thing in my chest that is saying “maybe you should just effing do it” — hit send, buy a plane ticket, don’t walk over that rickety bridge…whatever.

I think a big reason we have trouble listening to ourselves is we are busy listening to others. This is totally tied to the idea of comparison, of looking at others as a guide for what we should do, how we should act. (And social media also plays a big part into this, but that’s for another post.) Nobody knows you but you (surprise!). The answers are there. Stop separating your body from you. Your legs aren’t tired, you are tired. Your stomach isn’t hungry, you are hungry.  

I’m not writing this because I know all the answers or because I’m amazing at this, because I’m pretty crappy at it — especially as of late. But what I have been trying to do is check in with my body before doing anything rash. Close my eyes. Do I want to keep ’em closed? Skip my run. I’m upset and reach for the cereal box for dinner. Close my eyes again. Am I actually looking forward to Vanilla Almond Clusters for dinner? (Well, maybe…) But do I actually want to skip out on the joys of cooking (and all that broccoli that’ll go bad) for a “meal” that will be over in three minutes? Not really.

Listen to your body, because by doing so, you’re respecting it. Which means you’re respecting yourself. And you deserve all the respect in the world. 

For more “deep thoughts” by Laura Schwecherl (you’re welcome) checccck:
On fear
On balance
On meaning
On being a greatist
On yoga
On online dating
On (dis)connect
On comparison
On taking flight
On relationships

Lately I’ve (still) been having trouble writing and running — two things very close to my heart. 

I’m not exactly sure whats up on the running front.  There were times when training for Eugene that I was looking forward to doing more yoga and strength training and forgoing long runs and constant tight hips and hamstrings. I even told myself that I wanted to rest more. But I seem to forget that I’m an insanely restless person, and after a few weeks of taking things easy, I have tried oh so hard to get back on the running bandwagon. 

But that hasn’t really happened. I honestly have not had a good run in well over a month. Most have barely been more than five miles, at which point my body feels so zonked I just start walking. WALKING.

I know I’m not injured, which I am incredible thankful for. But in some selfish way, it almost feels worse that nothing is really wrong with me; I haaave the ability to run, and I want to, but I can’t. It’s a physical burn out, and while the mental part of me is finally, whole-heartedly there, my body isn’t.

That said, I thankfully haven’t been curled up in my bed cursing the world while my Asics form cobwebs in the corner. I have been *forcing/suggesting that I go running every AM — no more than a couple of miles — just to get back into the routine. They aren’t fast miles, and they certainly aren’t pretty, but it does feel good to just get out there and move a bit.

But besides running, I have been happily moving in other ways. My apartment makeover is really coming together, I’m spending quality time with my new roommate, and I have even decided to take care of another living thing: a PLANT. (One step down from a cat…)

I was recently in Florida with my Grandma, who is my best friend. I’ve also spent many evenings with many different and wonderful friends in NYC, for beers and tequila shots and wine and gin (#DRINKING). No complains on that front. 

Aaand that’s all I’ve got for now. HAVE A GREAT WEEKEND.

As Instagram adds video, Facebook adds hashtags, and nearly every person I see on the (nyc) streets is glued to their smart phones playing Candy Crush (still don’t really know what that is) or is snapchatting (totally legit), I feel like all I’m reading about is the act of getting off of these devices and unplugging.

There was the recent NYTimes OpEd that had everyone (myself included) ironically tweeting: How to Not Be Alone. FastCompany has been conducting their own digital detox with the hashtag #unplug (check out some stories here, here, and here) and a dude even decided to leave the Internet for a year. Over a year ago I wrote about Pico Iyer’s piece, The Joy of Quiet, and since then have read about the myth of disconnecting, while more recently seen commencement speeches from tech guys urging students to take a break from technology.

And it makes sense. As we become more connected and social media continues to expand, people are concerned and curious as to how it’s affecting relationships: if it’s bringing people together in a new and empowering way, or if it’s destroying the importance of traditional interaction. (Aka FaceTime…without a phone.)

Yet I feel like the connectivity we experience on social media is not replacing or competing with the connectivity we feel offline. Facebook friends are different that real friends. Instagram likes are different from real feedback on artwork. Texts are different from in-person conversations. And the truth of the matter is, in my opinion, that we need both. I’m the first to admit that I like social media. Twitter is an incredibly powerful tool that has helped me form genuine connections both on and offline. Facebook allows me to stay in touch with friends around the world, and Instagram lets me capture moments in my life I may otherwise forget (like my cat who liked to hang out in my refrigerator).

But I also desperately need that other side of the coin. I prefer meeting people in person than I do talking on the phone. I’d also much rather call up a friend than send a string of texts. I like meeting and making new friends in random situations, and I naturally need, and crave, human touch.

“Touch is one of the most powerful, powerful tools we have.” Can change both physical and historical pain – @arieldaunay #140You

— Laura Schwecherl (@lschwech) June 19, 2013

Luckily, I think it’s pretty easy to live a balanced life of being connected and disconnected without going to extremes. (Or you could go to this digital detox summer camp.) I know my friend Meg has made a conscious effort to call her friends instead of text, while Derek tries to unplug completely on most Sundays. I try to take a daily walk to Madison Square park without my phone. Or if I’m standing in line waiting for a coffee or the bathroom or a beer – I people watch instead. I’ve more recently turned off my phone when out to eat (I can’t ‘gram my dinner, but that’s ok…) and I’ve been kiiiind of trying to turn off all electronics an hour before bed. (Besides, I’d rather get cozy with books, bourbon, and/or boy instead of my Twitter feed.)

And perhaps the most important thing? Don’t measure your self-worth by the number of Twitter followers, Instagram likes, our FourSquare notifications you receive. Don’t hide behind texts and blogs (!) and feeds. But don’t think you’re an evil person for enjoying these either — for feeling a little self-validation from social media is okay, and being a little less lonely on the Internet completely normal.

So go write a blog post, and then go outside. Check-in to a favorite restaurant, then turn off your phone. Snapchat a best friend, and then hug them in real life. And tell them you love them in way more than 140 characters.

I’ve been itching to write lately, but have had trouble coming up with anything remotely interesting/worth writing about. Running has been a slow and frustrating comeback; my asthmatic lungs have not agreed with the sticky rise in temps, and anything over four miles makes me start wheezing like a champ. That, and I find I’m so darn tired that my legs can’t push for more than 30 minutes. I’ve been patiently waiting for my redemption run – a run where I can go 10 or so miles and feel like I’m floating or flying. It doesn’t have to be fast. It just has to feel good. 

Until then, I’ve been in the midst of a lil apartment makeover. I’ve got a new roommate who has an “eye” for making places nice, and welp, our futon, desk, and some eclectic art pieces had to go. We made a scary trip to IKEA (I even wrote about it) where we bought a couch, bookshelf, wardrobe, and I finally finally got myself a real bed. (I spent $600 in total and nearly vomited.) I theeen spent a whole beautiful weekend indoors, trying to put together a bed by myself, which ended up collapsing on me on Sunday night. After crying enough tears to create a personal monsoon, I gave up and hired a Taskrabbit. But now I have a bed! And being so high up is weird!

So rather than writing and running a whole lot, I’ve been reading. Some favorites here:

How the drive to run 26.2 does the world good – NY Daily News

Why nobody can afford to live in major cities – Financial Times

What 13 popular websites used to look like  – Yahoo!

“I get it” – Seth Godin

I know what you think of me – The New York Times

The futility of comparing yourself to others – Zen Habits

The ends of the road (pics) – The Atlantic

It seems like after a long training cycle, the next obvious question is “What’s Next?” (I mean, I signed up for my second marathon 24 hours after my first…). But now that Eugene has come and gone, I took a little time off, got back into a rhythm, and re-introduced my body to race distances shorter than 26.2 miles. Now, I once again am at that crossroads. What the heck do I do now?

Right now, I don’t really feel like racing. Maybe it’s the training, the stupid fees, the fear of failure, or the nerves that take me back to HS track when I wanted to vom at the starting line — I’m not entirely sure. I do want to run. And I want to get faster. I have goals and I one day want to crush them. But there’s time.  

And quite frankly, I’m a little burnt out. I couldn’t finish a 5x1000m workout the other week, and every time I wake up early to go for a run, I turn over in bed and sleep for another hour. The tipping point was the summer series 5K I ran on Wednesday – I knew I was exhausted, but it was National Running Day! And all my friends were going to be there! I decided to run it as a ‘fun run,’ but felt awful from the moment I took off. I almost DNF’d (…a 5K…) because I was a mental mess. I crossed the line in 22:22 (ok, that’s kind of cool) and wanted to, well, die.

So I’m focusing on healing. For awhile. These last few months have actually been kind of crazy-town for me: lots of changes and lots of things under the non-blog radar I’ve been dealing with, and the thought of training for a sub 1:35 half or 44xx 10K seems a little daunting. Namely, I want to enjoy my summer, be outside all the time with my friends and margaritas, and stop feeling so exhausted. (Side note: I’m being a total hypocrite because I kind of hate when people complain about being tired. Everyone is tired. I know. But ohhhh well).

So what’s next? I’m going to enjoy summer. I’m letting my body actually recover from hiking the AT. I’m going to go to IKEA with my new roommate and actually be an adult and buy a bed AND a couch. (Yikes.) I’m going to go to Florida to visit my Grandma, out to the North Fork to go wine-tasting, and Fire Island to hard chill on the beach. I’m going to my first friend’s wedding in Wisconsin, and will hopefully spend other summer evenings with my favorite people in the whole entire world.

I will, of course, still run. But I think I need to hide my garmin in storage for a while. Take a break from all the numbers. All the data. Think of it like a juice cleanse…for mile splits. Or something (:

I’ll begin by saying this weekend was not at all what I expected. The purpose of this trip was to not only escape the city, but also relieve some stress and relax a little.

So… about that whole relaxing thing. It was a crazy adventure and I’ve come away super humbled and full of stories. The AT is no joke. Backpacking is no joke. Meeting other hikers is what makes the trail so special. Having your best friend by your side is everything.

Before photo. Clean and happy.

On Day One, we spent the few fires miles in the hot, hot sun, getting used to the 30+ pounds on our back and enjoying the flat terrain. Then, we started to ascend up a mountain, saying goodbye to level ground for the rest of our trip. (Little did we know.) Climbing up steep hills, over ragged rocks with our packs, and through creeks was  the first “aha” moment — we’re climbing over mountains. This is (surprise!) not going to be a walk in the park. 

We were about four miles in when (and I was given full permission to tell this story…) Nicole got her period. And wasn’t prepared. We quickly went into planning mode: Option 1) Hike to the next town four miles down the trail, where I would then run the 1.8 miles into town (and win Best Friend of the Year Award) and pray there was a drug store. Run back. Option 2) Backtrack down the mountain to the road about a mile away, and try to find a store. While we talked over our options, we passed two day hikers, Matt and Jessica, who could see we were a little harried. Nicole explained the issue (“I just got my FREAKIN period in the WOODS”) and they offered to drive us into the closer town.

After our little pit-stop, we told Matt and Jessica we’d somehow “pay it forward” (foreshadowing!) and then continued on the AT. We re-climbed the mountain, continued meandering over peaks, across small creeks, and through beautiful, thick woods. I was also keeping my eyes out for bears, since nearly everyone so kindly told me I’d probably see one. I kept turning every corner waiting to see a huge animal with a huge appetite, wondering how I would react.

Alas, no bears — just the deep and dark thick of the woods. After 13 or so miles of hiking, we knew we were coming up to our shelter at Wawayanda. Unfortunately, we were probably about a quarter-mile from the shelter, but spent 1.5 hours of hiking looking for it. We finally found it, and soon learned we were sharing the lean-to.

Meet “Nitro Joe” (side note: everyone who does the AT has a trail name, so that was his. I am “Little Bear” and Nic is “Fire Ant”) a 71 year-old thru-hiker. He’s been an active junky his whole life, and started the AT last year when he broke his leg in Virginia — and kept going for 250 more miles before realizing something was very wrong. He came back this year to start where he left off, and is hiking all the way up to Maine.

And here we were, exhausted after 8 hours of hiking, and Nitro Joe and his 71-years have been on the trail since April the 2nd. 

We cooked dinner, exchanged stories, and were asleep before the sun had set. Nitro Joe had plans to leave by 4am – he was going to bypass the shelter we were staying at (Wildcat) and continue on the trail. I remember waking up and seeing his feeble, yet somehow strong body hop down from the lean-to and disappear into the woods. I silently wished him luck and strength, and rolled over for another hour of sleep.

We woke up sore and tired — both of us hadn’t slept well. We quickly boiled water and made oatmeal, and then filled up our water and went on our way. We had 12 miles till’ Wildcat Shelter and had left a bit before 8am, figuring we could get to the next shelter in the afternoon.

If Day One was spent worrying about the bears, Day Two was all about hiking through swamps and slippery rocks, praying we wouldn’t slip and fall into the mud and break ours legs. The terrain and the heat had us walking at what felt like a snails pace. We finally reached a beautiful summit, and stopped to take our packs off and enjoy the breeze. 

And then it finally happened.

After the summit, we walked about quarter-mile down the trail and when I looked up, there he was. The Bear. Now, when you see a black bear, you’re supposed to get big — put your arms up, make lots of noise, and scare the thing. But when your survival instincts kick in and you see a massive animal less than 100 feet in front of you, on the trail just staring at you, all signs point to “RUN AWAY.” I think I did something like throw my arms up, yell to Nic “bear, bear…” and then I started talking to it. “HI BEAR. YES WE ARE HERE. PLEASE GO AWAY.” (If you’re polite, they don’t eat you.) Then we started clapping, and turned our backs (bad idea) on the bear and sped walked back to the summit.

I was kind of a mess — that bear hadn’t budged, it wasn’t scared off, and I didn’t really feel like walking near it again just in case it was a bad berry season and he was particularly hungry. We sat on that silly summit for 30 minutes wondering what to do, when two Aussies walked through. We told them about the bear and their response was “COOL!” (crazies) and they offered to escort us down the trail. Alas, The Bear was gone by that point, and when we talked to our two new pals, we learned they also live in NYC. Then, we learned one lived in Williamsburg…on my street.

Yep, I escaped the woods only to have my next door neighbor safely escort us past Smokey The Bear. 

The rest of the hike was a bit rough. We kept walking up and up and up — scrambling up rocks — and I was still convinced Smokey was coming after us. There were also limited water sources, and our water was running low. We had a nifty filtration system, but the creeks were tiny and we couldn’t get much fresh H20. Our packs felt like they were getting heavier and heavier, trail mix became less appetizing, and the elevation made our pace a lot slower than we wanted. The miles crawled by. Then, it started to pour.

We finally reached a road, and knew from our guide-book that we only had 2.5 miles until we’d reach Wildcat Shelter. We stopped to rest at the road, and saw a sign for a creamery. Figuring ice cream for dinner was the best idea, well, ever, we walked up the road to semi-civilization and indulged. It was probably one of the top 5 best moments of my life. And look at us – a bit…tired? #ICECREAM 

After the ice cream, we continued back down the road and on to the trail to finish what ended up being nearly 12 hours of hiking. We found Wildcat Shelter neatly tucked away in the woods, only to find our old friend Nitro Joe there, too.

“I was worried you girls weren’t going to make it — that stretch is one of the hardest in New York.” 

We threw down our packs, felt our backs and hips quietly throb, and smiled — grateful. Another pal was also at the shelter, “Bluegrass,” a 30-something teacher from Nashville who had done the whole AT last year and was taking a month off to do a stretch from Delaware to Vermont. The four of us shared stories, talked of our past travels, future dreams, and what it’s like to truly hike the AT – and how to do it right. You’re supposed to train with a pack for months, learning how to accustom your muscles to the new weight. Everything should weigh under a pound. Only take the necessities. Only have positive energy. Must Love The Woods.

It poured all night. The next morning, we watched the rain, sipped instant coffee together, and then Bluegrass, who I thought could’ve been my future husband, took off. Nicole and I only had a modest three miles to where her parents were planning on picking us up. Nitro Joe had pinched a nerve in his back and was looking for a hotel to stay at for the night, so he hiked with us, and then squeezed in the back seat so we could take him one hour out of our way to a clean motel.

Paying it forward. More stories, more friends.

Looking back, I’m incredibly grateful for the experiences, sights, and stories we were able to devour while on the AT for a short three days. I’m also super humbled — I definitely went into it with a I’m in great shape, I love the woods, I can hike over hills for days! attitude, and quickly learned that carrying extra weight is super challenging. Getting devoured by the trail and not seeing people for hours unsettling. Running into a bear on the trail — slightly terrifying.

But, it’s also incredible. Spending three days with your best friend fully immersed in nature is truly special. Reaching those peaks and getting the gift of a beautiful breeze and epic view, along with the relief of taking off your pack for a minute or two, gratifying. And when Fire Ant, Nitro Joe, and I hiked those final three miles together, I could feel my sore hips and tight back start to get used to the walking. The weight. I started to finally feel in rhythm with the AT, a sense that one day I could do this. That I’d really, truly want to.

So thank you: to Nitro Joe for showing us it’s possible to  find adventure at any age. To Matt and Jessie for driving us to a Shoprite so Nicole wouldn’t hate her life. To Bluegrass for reminding us that a working man can find time to travel. To the two Aussies-Brooklynites who helped us walk by The Bear and to The Bear for forcing me to face my fears head on. To the ice cream shop for being right near the trailhead and providing us with the best dinner ever. And of course to Nicole, for being my partner in crime and the only person I could ever imagine doing this with.

And then, thank you to the good ol’ AT — Mother Nature at its finest – for reminding me that the woods is in charge: ready to challenge, amaze, and open up its arms to anyone willing to take that first step.

One June 1st, 2010, Nic and I ventured out with our camp gear, cookstove, and car worth of clif bars, clothes, and crosswords (woah alliterations) to go roam the United States. 

look familiar?

And now exactly three years later, for our anniversary, we’re going on a mini camping adventure — though leaving the car behind. We’re finally embarking on our three day trip to the Appalachian Trail, where we can hopefully get “lost” in the woods, no longer hearing the hums of New York City streets and getting a chance to unplug, unwind, and feel some god damn fresh air.

When I mentioned to some people I’m hiking the AT, my favorite response is “the whole thing?” If we had six months, no jobs, and enough hiking shoes to last us 2,180 miles, I might consider it. But we’re two startup-working girls with overloaded inboxes, a sort of love-hate-but-mostly-kind of-love relationship with New York City, and only one pair of shoes (each). So we opted for 30ish miles instead.

The cool part about this (besides being IN THE WOODS!) is being on the trail while carrying all your belongings. The point is to bring the essentials but make your pack as light as possible. It’s funny how little you think you need, but how much it ends up looking like. Here’s kinda/sorta what we’re packing up:

Sleep Tent Fly Tarp Sleeping bag Sleeping pad Safety First aid kit Large knife Whistle String (to hang food on trees for #thebears) Flashlight Food Cookstove Propane Pot Utensils Plates/cups Rice (cooked) Cans of beans Instant oatmeal Clif bars Trail mix Apples Chili Instant coffee Misc Soap Headlamp Map Books Notebook/pen GPS compass Water bottles Iodine tablets (purify water from streams…) Matches/lighter Trowel Baby wipes Hand sanitizer Sunscreen Clothes Rain gear Things to keep you warm at night Things to keep you cool during the day. …And that’s it!

We’ve also mapped out a route that’s about 30 miles long, and has a shelter for us to pitch our tent each night. (It’s apparently illegal to not set up shop in a shelter, yet I don’t know who is monitoring this…). Some shelters even come with amenities like lean-to’s, water, and privies. It’s basically like a rustic Ritz-Carlton.

one of our shelters #homesweethome

part of our route. i think

So come Saturday AM, I will be gone from the Internets for a few days. It will be lovely. Buuut it will also be short. So read this quote by Bill Bryson in A Walk in the Woods (which we’ll obviously be reading to each other on the trail) and go have a wonderful weekend. 

“It is such a strange contrast. When you’re on the AT, the forest is your universe, infinite and entire. It is all you experience day after day. Eventually it is about all you can imagine. You are aware, of course, that somewhere over the horizon there are mighty cities, busy factories, crowded freeways, but here in this part of the country, where woods drape the landscape for as far as the eye can see, the forest rules.”