It’s not completely dialed in yet. A few small pieces are still on the way, and I didn’t pack any food. But almost everything that will come with me to Georgia was stuffed inside. Twenty pounds on my back.
And somehow, it made my soul feel lighter.
I’ve spent months obsessing over every little thing. Clothing, water filtration, sleeping pads and bags, the perfect titanium spoon. I practiced using a bottle bidet, debated between different pouches, weighed every option (literally and figuratively). This has been a process of endless decisions.
And yet today, for the first time, it all came together. It was no longer a spreadsheet or a pile of gear on my floor. It was on me.
I stood there, in my room, feeling the weight settle onto my hips—and almost started to cry. The emotion came quietly, but powerfully. Tears welled up.
This is happening. I’m really going to do this.
I walked into the bathroom, wanting to see myself. Pack on my back, I faced the mirror. It was me in the reflection, but it also wasn’t. There was something different in the eyes staring back.
I looked proud.
I am proud.
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