Forty-One Days!

Can you believe it? Forty-one days until I'm Ireland bound! That's going to be here before you can say, "You better get serious about training, fat ass!"

I've been doing a better job of hitting the pavement over the past week or two, but I've also been eating like a construction worker with a tape worm. I'm guilty of this sort of thinking:"I just pounded out six miles in this heat, I deserve to inhale a pizza and six pack." Am I alone or do you do this, too? Then I wonder why my pants don't fit! Hmmm. The bottom line is that time is running out. I've gotta put my nose to the grindstone instead of the feed bag.

I pulled out all of my trail clothes and dumped them on the bed to figure out what I'm taking. Just seeing all of those specialty walking socks, quick-drying shirts, gators, and walking sticks lying there made me smile. Memories of walking across England and around the Dingleberry Peninsula with my favorite baby girl flooded my mind. I stood there grinning like a dim wit until Doug came in. He looked at me and then turned around and walked back out. You think he'd be used to this shit by now, right?

That night I had a nightmare about getting lost on the trail. It was getting dark and I simply couldn't figure out where I was. When I pulled out my compass (that I still haven't learned to use), the needles were spinning wildly. I shook it a few times and when that didn't help, I chucked it over a cliff. Then I pulled out my trusty map, but when I opened it up, there was a big hole in the section where I thought I might be. As I starred at it, unable to understand what had happened, I heard chewing. I looked around, expecting to find another walker who I could look to for companionship and help to find my way to the next town. Instead, I found a donkey. He was chewing a big juicy section of map. "Hey!" I shouted, "that's my freakin' map you're eating!" He stopped chewing and waited. "I'm lost, you dumb ass, I need that map!" He laughed and said, "Look who's calling who an ass."

Then I woke up.

I took that as a sign that I harbor some unspoken fear about hiking 135 miles alone. I don't feel afraid or worried, but that dream has me wondering if maybe I should be more concerned? Nah. I'm not gonna worry. I'll be fine as long as I keep my map away from the donkeys.