Mile 678. Insect shield.

Today’s eighteen-mile Appalachian Trail section guarantees soggy, chest-high weeds that whip my face, blinding my feet of the large, irregular, and slippery rocks.   Every moment that my bones remain intact is a grateful one.  “This is what I signed up for,” I remind myself.   

One trekking pole parts the weed sea while the other keeps me upright.   I settle into a slow rhythm; and the syncopation anesthetizes the stinging on my arms and bruising on my feet.   

I bump into Julie and Dave, two accomplished runners from Australia with whom I’ve enjoyed leapfrogging every couple days.    Julie is an ultra trail runner who sneaks in 10K runs during her “rest” days in town.   Dave is a sponsored runner who consistently ran sub-2:20s in his prime.  I stand a little taller when I’m around Julie and Dave.   They are my people.  

As we are traveling in opposite directions today, we welcome a small clearing to briefly catch up on hiking plans and Trail gossip.  

As we stand, Julie swats her bare right leg.   It’s a tick.   The third she’s swept off just today.    

Dave shares that he hardly slept a wink last night.   The bug bites on his bare legs resemble a mild case of leprocy.   Oof.   I know that itching insanity.  I don’t envy him.  

I look down at my legs.  Since my first day on Trail, they have been covered with long pants that I have mailed into InsectShield for permithrin treatment.  They now are baggy.   And soggy.  And muddy.  And hotter than hell.  And I hate them most days.   

But - today - in this moment with Julie and Dave - I love my hot and ugly pants.   

I have had zero bug bites.  Not even one.   And I was starting to wonder if the ticks actually are as prolific as everyone has been predicting.   

I am re-resolved.  For my long-term health, permithrin-treated pants (and shoes, and socks, and shirts, and bras) remain my choice for this Trail.