Backpacking at 274 Pounds

Beginning of the trail - 2010

In 2010, at 274 pounds, my husband and I went on a six day 22 mile backpacking trip with nearly thirty pounds of gear strapped to our backs (okay, so his was probably more than 30 lbs).  Six years later, I remember the feeling of complete exhaustion.  In particular, I remember on day one, we were about half way to our destination when we stepped off the trail, removed our packs and boots, and rested our sweat soaked bodies on the bend of a river.  Removing my pack was one of the best feelings ever - my body felt like it was floating.  Our exuberance was quickly terminated when it was time to lace up our boots and strap our packs on again to finish our first day of hiking.  By the time we reached the lake where we would make camp, I could barely feel my feet/legs and I'm sure I had complained for at least the last two miles of the trek.  We made camp, ate what little food we could get down, and crashed for the night.  

The following morning, we packed up camp and headed over the pass.  Still exhausted from the previous day, we slowly climbed our way to the top.  Along the way, we were met with a horrific (yet oddly beautiful at that elevation) thunder and lightning storm and a downpour of rain, but as we reached the summit, the clouds parted, the sun shined through, and a rainbow appeared in the distance.  It was one of the most beautiful things I'd ever seen.  The view from the top made me feel as though I had just conquered the world.  Looking down over the basin, I felt as though I could do anything.  Yet, the descent into the basin would prove to be the hardest part of the entire trip.  By the time we reached our camp for day two, the pads of my feet (just behind my toes) and under my toenails were blistered and so sore I could barely walk.  At this point, I was overwhelmed with emotions, drained, and ready to quit.  I was certain I would have to be carried out by a rescue team.

On the third day, again we packed up camp and headed towards our next resting point.  I recall walking gingerly on the dirt path that cut through the luscious green grass surrounded by rock walls, quietly following my husband and taking in the complete silence and beauty that can only be found 8,000 feet above sea level; yet, grimacing with each step on my blistered feet.  As we made our way down the gradual trail, and walked through the opening of the hillsides, we peered down at another heavenly sight as we set eyes on the lake where we would be spending the next night.  It was a short hike which gave my feet some time to rest.  We spent the next two days, fishing, washing our clothes in the lake, and stowed away in our tent during down pours.  

Day four, we hiked to our next camp spot and here we enjoyed the warmth of a fire, fishing in the lake, and reminisced about our journey.  It was bitter sweet knowing that our adventure would soon be over.  While my feet were still riddled with pain, I knew that the connection my husband and I were making on this expedition could not be replaced.  We had been through so much together.  He pushed me both physically and emotionally to continue the journey when I thought it was impossible.  He reminded me that I was strong and capable of anything.  

On day five, we made our way to our final resting place.  On this night, we did not camp near a lake, but rather just off of the trail.  Here, we again enjoyed the warmth of a fire and savored the conversation.  We knew that the day ahead would be a long and tiresome one, but we wanted to make the most of our final night in the mountains.  

By day six, we were tired of dry tuna and pita pockets, but we were quite good at packing up camp quickly and efficiently and stuffing everything back into our packs.  For two people who had never been on an adventure like this one, we fared pretty well.  Did we need six days to do it?  Probably not, but it did give my feet a chance to heal along the way and it allowed us time to take hundreds of pictures, enjoy the scenery, and connect on a deeper level than ever before.  There was also something assuring in knowing that we had six days to complete this 22 mile adventure - if it weren't for that, I may have never gone.  

End of the trail - 2010

Our walk out that day was quiet and saddening in many ways, but it also felt intensely glorious.  We crossed a river by walking across some fallen trees, passed through a meadow, and meandered our way down the rocky trail which followed a river for much of the way.  Near the end, we caught glimpses of the lake and we knew we were getting close.  Although not as magnificent as the view from the summit or the view as we passed between the rocky hillsides, this view was also welcoming.  It meant our journey was ending and we we could almost taste the celebratory hamburger, fries, and coke that we would devour once we reached our endpoint.  

For me, hiking at 274 pounds was incredibly challenging both physically and mentally, but it was also empowering.  Throughout the entire trek, my husband reminded me repeatedly of how proud he was of me and how strong I was.  He would also point out that in all the times throughout the hike where we had passed people along the trail, never did we pass anyone as heavy as me (or even close) and we never saw a woman with a pack as full as mine.  Without him, I'm certain I would have turned around after the first two or three miles.  Although it was empowering, hiking 22 miles didn't make me want to be any healthier.  If anything, it made me feel like I was fine the way I was.  In fact, it might have diluted my obesity at least as seen through my eyes.  

Fear and Anxiety

I was diagnosed with anxiety disorder when I was first diagnosed with postpartum depression.  As a result, some things are extremely hard for me.  Planning times to meet with other people is challenging for me, even planning to meet family is tough at times.  I don't know why.  I think it's more about the anxiety leading up to the event.  Usually once I'm there I do okay; especially when my husband is there to calm my nerves.  However, I don't always realize that it's anxiety that is holding me back in life.

Hanalei one of our puppies

Exercise is no exception.  When I was younger, I was bit by a dog just under my right eye - the scar is still visible sometimes.  To this day, I am still scared of dogs.  If I know the dog, I'm okay, but the thought of going for a walk and having a dog run up to me is frightening.  This is something that has kept me from walking with my children for their entire lives.  If my husband isn't there, it is really hard for me to go (I don't think I've gone on a walk more than 5 times without him).  This may be an unrealistic fear now that I live in the city, but in my home town, dogs ran free a lot of the time.  It wasn't uncommon to encounter them in your own yard and definitely if you went for a walk.  However, in the city there are fewer dogs running free and rarely do you see one just walking the streets.  Still, I can't even park next to a car with a dog in it and I know they can't get me.  So, although it might be unrealistic, it's very real for me. 

Dogs aren't the only thing that keep me from walking.  I am so scared of falling down and not being able to get up and some stranger having to help me that I don't want to walk alone.  I also don't want to walk with just my kids.  I'd hate to embarrass them or have them feel like they need to help me when I know that would be nearly impossible.  Unlike my fear of dogs, this fear hasn't been with me forever.  About 14 years ago,  I twisted my ankle pretty badly in a store and fell to the ground.  Although it wasn't broken, I did have to wear a brace and keep pressure off of it.  I had never twisted my ankle before that event, but ever since, I was twisting it all the time and if my husband wasn't there to hold me up, I usually ended up on the ground.  A few years later, my hubby and I went to a Blazer game.  As we were walking back to our car, I twisted my ankle about 7 times before we got back to it; each time my husband was there to hold me up.  By the time we got to the car, I was exhausted, in pain, and so embarrassed (I was probably crying too).  It was probably this walk that solidified my fear of walking.  However, another one still sticks with me too.  On my first day of college, I was walking out of class, stepped on a uneven crack on the sidewalk, my ankle turned and I hit the ground.  Some of my classmates stopped to see if I was okay and pick up my phone that had slid across the ground.  I was able to get up, but I was very sore and my wrist hurt for years after that.  

The fear of falling, compounded with my fear of dogs, has kept me in my house for years.  I still get very nervous walking on pavement and I can't stand to watch people run on the sidewalk or road.  I am so scared that they will fall and get hurt.  It literally makes me sick to my stomach to think about it. 

Are these rational fears?  No, probably not, but they are real fears that I experience still today.  These fears are holding me back from being successful and I know it, but I'm still not sure exactly how to get over them.  

There has to be a way to get over the anxiety that lives inside me.