A year after my trail running fall, I had suspected as much, but a $200 doctor visit had yielded only this: "Maybe don't run so much." I had to fight to be referred to PT, and now everything made sense. The band of pain when standing, low in my back. An ache when I ran, deep in the muscle. And this: just an indescribable feeling of imbalance, as if the way I walked through the world was no longer right.
There's also other types of imbalance, the kind that can be cured by spending a night on the high trail. This trail winds like a belt around the middle of Hells Canyon, passing through sweet benches that soar over empty space and abandoned pieces of homesteads. It is remote and wind-swept and peppered with flowers. We saw one pack string in twenty-four hours, even though it is gloriously spring in the canyon, seventy degrees as we lay on our thermarests taking in the view.
|That's Idaho over there with all the snow. It's about 7 miles away.|
|our tents with only the mesh, the better to see the full moon.|
|Shadows fall as evening approaches.|
|Some elk came over to say hi.|