A Full Zero and Remember How to Laugh

Miles 11.3

Camped at mm 388.0

Since we were above treeline, two things were true. We could see everything for a million miles, and it was freezing ass cold. The mountains folded one range on top of another, gradually turning a deeper shade of blue until they blended in with the sky or until their craggy crowns disappeared around the curvature of the earth. Who knew there could possibly be so many mountains on Earth? Much less all in one place? It was mind boggling.

And I felt so grateful that my husband mailed me down pants and booties in my last resupply box. I’ve been hiking in the down pants, and I’ve been so cozy and thankful for them every day because it. is. cold.

It was in the 20’s this morning when we got up. We both have mentioned to our husbands that we have no interest in winter camping, yet here we are…and never again…

Morale is low. I think we are burned out. We’ve just been pushing too hard for too long. We need a full day off. A full day with zero miles hiked. A Full Zero.

Stone noticed we don’t laugh much anymore. I attribute it to being in the meat of the adventure but she’s right, we still should be capable of laughter. I’m too wrapped up in trying to breathe, and my inability to sleep because I can’t breathe, and blah blah blah about breathing, to try to remember that things can be lighthearted too. Plus everything hurts. My feet are swollen and they hurt all the time, my whole body is exhausted, and my focus seems to be only on pain and how to lessen it. What drugs do I take? How many hours has it been since I took the last ones? When can I take more?

And the wind. The neverending, blasting wind, throwing me around and making me nervous about being on some of these trails that cling to cliffsides. It’s freaking exhausting. And nerve-wracking.

How do I Remember How to Laugh when all I know how to do is cry?