Encircling the Green, you may have noticed the familiar gait of a 50 Miler: the careful limp, tentative angle of the knee, abundantly blistered soles, toe pieces of shoes flapping open, mud-coated socks and trenchfoot. The former are often accompanied by repetition of a cursory phrase or two. Beyond the visible sings of exertion, these 50 Milers share a little something more: the heightening of their mental awareness.
Why? you ask yourself. Why would someone be crazy enough to put themselves through such pain and sleep deprivation, turning into nocturnal treaders of the Appalachian Trail? We, the 70 some-odd (the "official" and "unofficial" ) pursuing the 50 Mile Hike pondered over the same question, for a period of many, many hours in fact. When the mud sucked our shoes from their home, our eyes fluttered in the misty gusts, appendages of trees attacked from all sides, and the path of least resistance pushed we Kamakazi down gravity, we deeply wondered. Having asked someone "WHY?????? " when they waited in line in Robo for hours on end, or hiking under the title of an "unofficial," a variety of responses may have filled the query. Some may have been most inspired by the food: "For the free peanuts at every stop, the chili offered between Smarts Mountain and Cube Peak, the steepest ascents."
A few thoughts may have been further into the future, capturing the end of the excursion: "For the square dancing at the Moosilauke Ravine Lodge, for the view atop Mt. Moosilauke, to share the familiar fire place of freshmen trips with my comrades."
Some may have been overwhelmed with campus happenings: "Procrastination of Orgo work, for non-substance-borne hallucinations, for a personal record of Advil intake within a 24 hour period." The activity level may have played the key role in the decision: "To work off that last food court hamburger, to finally get my money's worth at the Sunday Brunch." For a 2000, "For some time to think of a major, explore the backroads of NH so I can see where to take my new car."
But regardless of the initial impetus for attempting the peregrination, those of us who participated in the annual 50 Mile Hike (actually 53 miles) from Hanover to Mt. Moosilauke, can all claim a similar victory. Each individual has attained a new perspective on their own capabilities. When you are answer "Yes, I did the 50 Miler," what you're really saying is "I'm a bit stronger, a bit more confident, and a bit more aware of my mental powers than I was before."
For an athlete, this experience may make the rest the training season easier, for the reminiscent, the strengthening of memories of good old Dartmouth. For the romantic: to have drilled peers for the complete dating record of a favorite crush. For the loyal of Dartmouth: to have become part of the 50-Miler Tradition and see the granite of New Hampshire about which we have sung since our birth in college. For the entrepreneur: eligibility to now apply for endorsements from Moleskin Inc.
For the religious fanatic: a chance to have figured out the complete wardrobe of a favorite deity. The literary types may have been most struck by the pursuit of the Chris McCandless, Huck Finn, Davy Crocket sense of freedom. For the chemist: to have tested the new Gor-Tex isomer in new rain gear. For the frequenters of frat row: possession of an excuse to imbibe in the pleasures of partying upon return. Materialists may have been most psyched "to have blown through three pairs of batteries." For the gregarious: to pursue random conversations with people as crazy as yourself."
For naturalists or those seeking spiritual release: to travel by his/her own free will and propel over rock and mud under individual power, or to see some nature other than The Green in front of Baker.
We have experienced a taste of what the phrase "mind over matter" really means. While we may not have not overthrown a lethal illness, the placebo effect when administering medications, exhibited clairvoyant dreams, or miraculously lifted a Volkswagon Bus from atop our friend's leg, we told ourselves to do what seemed unfathomable at some points -- whether due to distance, pain or desire. It seemed impossible at first. The numeric length of the trip matched only in mental trial and tribulation. It becomes apparent to survive, one must concentrate on managing the hour. When thoughts float to hours compounded by dwindling daylight and the drone of sucking breath, the distance seems unbearable. Baby steps. It's all about taking baby steps. One foot in front of the other, that's how you'll get there.
Even those who didn't have the satisfaction of opening the door of Moosilauke Ravine Lodge, back into civilization with hot tea and showers and warm socks. Those people opened another door: self-awareness. The hike may not have been the hardest physical feat anyone has ever endured, the most pain, the longest duration without sleep, but it at least builds on the confidence of knowing if you believe, you will achieve.
