Mile 333. I am worthy.

I’m not competitive.

I’m really not.  I don’t have a need to be number one or better than anyone.

Rather, I am scared.

I am scared of being left behind.   Of being alone.   Of not measuring up.

I am petrified of not being worthy. 

Please.  Please love me.   Please see my worth.   If I jump this hurdle, or if I touch this skyscraper, or if I twist myself into a pretzel enough -   Would you love me then?

It’s an affliction I’ve had since a little girl.   And I have spent oodles of hours on a therapist’s couch wishing away this part of me.

An unplanned day of hiking, followed by a 6.5 mile day - and with a planned five-day hiking hiatus looming - my fears are triggered:

My trail friends are going to leave me behind.   I am going to be alone.   I am not going to measure up.   I am not worthy.

Panic.

So today, I double down.   VomitFest is behind me.   I am experienced and smart; and I appreciate the need to take it slow.  I am confident I can hike 15.5 miles of Appalachian Trail mountains. 

As each mile passes, my pace slows.   The mountains get steeper; and my pack gets heavier.  Even my well-intentioned enthusiasm cannot control the vice that squeezes my legs and explodes my heart.

The sun is dull today.   The flowers are gone.   There is nothing to look at.   Are we there yet?

My body is woozey.   My words are jumbled.   My head hangs low.  I lumber up to my hostel defeated.

As soon as I walk in the door, a new pack of trail friends welcome me.  They share their same fears and similar stories.   They share their pizza.  

They share their love.

My shoulders relax and a smile slowly returns.  I am not left behind.  I am not alone.   I do measure up.

I am worthy.  

And grateful.