Tunbridge runbridge

Night run

Planet fitness 15%

Evening jaunt

Being a week removed from my thru-hike of the AT, I figured my mind and body was as dialed-in as I could hope for to attempt a big effort. The day prior, I drove 6 hours round trip to get a pedicure and lunch with my mom for her birthday. Turns out the calluses on my feet were in fact not overrated, but the mind was still as calloused as a leather boot. Speaking of thru-hike, I must have crossed paths with at least 20 NoBo's that I had previously met on the AT. Reminiscing with each and every one of them was worth its wait in gold. (Get it? wait..weight.. I’ll see myself out).

I began at Rattle River Trailhead at 8:40am. I made quick work of the initial ascent (for me anyway), beginning to worry that I was emptying my quiver too early and too often. The higher I climbed; the wetter things became. Although the forecasted rain did hold off, as I’d hoped it would. “Don’t you dare bust ass on a bog bridge”. Something that I continually repeated to myself throughout the effort.. Success.

I made it to Pinkham Notch in 6 hrs 12 mins. I’ve only ever traversed the Carters/Cats at a “leisurely” pace, so I was pleased with my time in the moment. Having about 80% of the distance remaining, I knew that I needed to stay level-headed and do my best to stifle emotions. Not too high, never too low.

I made my way across the Great Gulf and up Osgood at a decent clip. The weather was playing in my favor. Shorts and t-shirt temperature from start to finish. The week or three leading up had been sweltering and grossly humid to the point that I would have rather attempted this in the rain that was forecasted for both of the days I was out there. From the moment I broke tree line until I reached Washington, I was a Northern Presi paparazzi. I told myself I wouldn’t be, but the heart wants what it wants. Perhaps one day I’ll learn how to focus on just the run, but hopefully not. I made my first and only sock change at Madhut, which left me feeling uneasy knowing that I no longer had a dry spare to rely on. Washington’s summit was in the clouds, the sun was setting and my headlamp turned on as I neared Lakes of the Clouds. I stopped and admired the glacial tarns as the cicadas put on a communicative show for the ages. With no more sweeping views to distract my pea-sized brain, I swiftly made my way across the Southern Presi’s. Without the need to climb Monroe and Eisenhower, this section felt like a walk in the park.. relatively speaking, of course. As I approached Jackson and Webster, the air moistened and visibility worsened. I’d be lying if it didn’t cross my mind for a brief moment to go down Webster Jackson Trail and bail out at the Highland Center, but for what? I knew this was going to be extremely difficult. Isn’t that the point? Continuing forward, the descent down Webster Cliff was slow going as expected, but never too heinous. I reached Crawford Notch and the watch struck 16 hrs 32 mins.

Ethan Pond Trail was dryer than I had ever experienced it. I’m not great at finding a running gate this deep into vert-based efforts, but I knew this was as cruisy as things would ever be, so I managed to jog it out through the dead of the night. I stashed my poles in my belt, being the only time I would let them out of my grasp. I reached Zealand Hut and felt as though I needed a mental boost. I put my headphones in and the climbing ensued. I didn’t want to sleep, but I felt my head jerking left and right, scanning for a flat spot off trail to catch a dirt nap. I didn’t feel as though I’d earned one yet. After passing Zealand, I put my ego aside and laid down in a cozy spot off trail and set my alarm for 30 minutes. 12 minutes later I stood up, brushed myself off and felt oddly refreshed. No sleep was had, but my heart slowed way down and a deep trance was felt. The dawn of a new day was arising, so I stashed my headlamp away and tricked myself into believing a good night’s sleep was had. I put my headphones back in, but removed them shortly thereafter as the psychedelic music was starting to make me feel off-kilter. There was nothing impressive about the romp to Galehead hut, but it got done. All things considered, my joints and muscles were holding up well, but Garfield Ridge to Lafayette was nothing short of a battle. I was in a funk that couldn’t be shook. Sweet salvation awaited at the top of a socked in Lafayette. Just in time for a passing shower to soak the trails, slabs and flora to make for a painstakingly slow traverse across and down Franconia Ridge. It didn’t feel as if things were slipping away, but nothing about Crawford to I-93 felt as good as the first 44 miles. Regardless, I was convinced that I was going to finish once I made the initial step up trail toward the Kinsman’s. The next road crossing was at the base of Moosilauke and at that point I would need to be wheeled out on a stretcher to keep from finishing.

Light rain fell as I ascended toward Lonesome Lake - a non-factor for the traction on my Nnormal Tomir’s. Though the rubber toe bumpers were completely folded over, exposing my fragile toes to any and all potential impacts. Turns out Krazy Glue isn’t a permanent solution. Did I mention the holes in my socks from the start? A heavily used pair that I planned on returning to Darn Tough, but the only ones I had as I fully committed to this project 12 hours prior to start time. This doesn’t have to be perfect, it just has to be done. I cranked up the Kinsman’s, feeling strong and determined. That is until the blowdown filled, slick and wild descent off the back side of South Kinsman - the most maniacal descent on the entire Appalachian Trail. More wicked than Beaver Brook, Wildcat Trail and Webster Cliff. I’ve done them all several times, up and down and I’ll gladly die on that hill. I was tossing my poles down that section like an Olympic javelinist. Upon reaching Mt. Wolf, all the pain began to surface. My shins and feet were making me moan and groan. Chafing in the nether region due to wet shorts had me considering hiking naked to Kinsman Notch. “Compartmentalize the pain and keep moving”. Easier said than done. Cause if it was easy, then everyone would do it. With one more hill to climb, I dug deep and clawed my way up Beaver Brook like it was mile #1. Coming down was another story entirely. Making time was not even a thought at this point. I just needed to make it down. Slowly, but surely, I made it to a quiet and empty Glencliff trailhead. I was expecting a couple friends to be waiting at the finish, but assumed that I must have beat them there. I end my activity, took off my pack and laid down in the grassy field across the street. Headlamp off, stars illuminating the sky and the deafening sound of silence. Total peace.

10 minutes go by and I call my friend Amber to see where she is. She frantically tells me that I’m not at the correct finish line. This route doesn’t end at Glencliff Trailhead, but rather Glencliff, New Hampshire! You know.. the unincorporated community within the town of Warren 2 miles down trail. I’m beside myself, as I throw a quick pity party that no one’s invited to. I then start a new activity and it’s over the river and through the woods to Route 25 I go. As I near the (correct) finish line, I hear the hooting and hollering of a small crowd. I’m now fired up and put on my strong boy runner face, as if I haven’t been gimping the past 6 miles straight. I emerge from the river crossing and reach the road where it’s finally over. Waiting for me with open arms is Amber Constant, Chase Hall, Jimmy Rips, Zan Alberici and Lucas Robdau. Three of these people don’t know me from a hole in the wall, yet they’re patiently waiting on the side of a dark, buggy road to congratulate me in this relentless pursuit of self-exploration. A common bond that we all share so deeply. A true community at large. Zan had set the FKT two weeks prior and was there to essentially pass me the torch. I’m beside myself and have no words for how special these people made me feel. Thank you all from the bottom of my heart.. Did I mention they brought pizza? Spoken in a true love language.

Trail nutrition, or lack thereof:

Peanut butter & banana wraps
Meat sticks
Little Debbie cookies & creme brownies
Glazed honey buns
Fudge covered peanut butter filled cookies
Peanut M&M's
Reese's fast breaks
Justin's peanut butter
An assortment of bars (mostly Aldi store brand)
Gu's
Prime electrolyte sticks
Gas station caffeine pills
Still on my thru-hiker bullshit.

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Christopher Walkin

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Night run

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Evening jaunt

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