After the horrible blowdowns, which caused yet more foot and hip pain, April and Rodger drove me five hours to Cornell, Wisconsin, where my car was being held by Julie and Pat Kosher, trail angels I first met when hiking the Ice Age Trail. As I hobbled into the Kosher’s house, I felt blessed to once again be the recipient of their hospitality.

Pat had recently had a hip replaced, so he knew quite a bit about the pain I was feeling. He became my “drill sergeant,” giving me a number of helpful exercises from his physical therapy regime. Julie suggested a chiropractor and I was pleased to be able to get right in to see him. He took one look at the way I was walking, and as I suspected, told me the problem with my hip started with my foot. I thought about how everything in nature, including in our bodies, is interconnected, and how a problem with the foot can cause problems all the way to the head and neck. I felt a little better after the adjustment, but was still hobbling.

I spent a few days recovering with Pat and Julie, barely able to go up and down a flight of steps. During my stay with them, I began to process a flood of emotions. I wasn’t yet sure if I would get back on trail this summer or not. Getting off a trail before one expects is seldom easy. Luckily, I was in enough pain that it wasn’t an agonizing decision for me to take an extended break. Yet I still wasn’t ready to completely throw in the towel. Before I left home, Marty, an Ice Age Trail angel had offered to slack pack me through Wisconsin. I hated to lose that opportunity and wondered if, after a break, I might be able to hike without carrying a full pack.

I had done enough emotional work to know I didn’t have to feel bad about stepping off the trail. But I felt lost, not quite sure what direction to go in next. I decided to lean into that uncertainty, even though it is an unpleasant place to sit in. I applied my trail philosophy to the uncertainty about my future, trusting that if I just kept putting one foot in front of the other, something would emerge. The situation was pushing me to go even deeper in my trust. It required that I let go of any sense of future direction and really be present in the here now of unknowing. I became aware of how the discomfort around not knowing what would happen next was exacerbated by my experiences as a child, when trying to figure out the future was something I did to mitigate my exposure to abusive situations.

Since I was only two hours away, I called the Mayo Clinic which is known for excellent medical care. I was hoping with their team approach they would be better at helping me find a way to walk that wouldn’t harm the rest of my body. Up until now, my medical care has consisted of one person looking at the skin grafts, while another looked at random pains in my foot and yet another made an orthodic to correct the crooked way I was now walking. But no bone had looked at how the skin grafts would react to the position the orthodic placed my foot in, nor how walking on the skin grafts would alter my gait, especially as they broke open from the pressure of being walked on.

I was beginning to believe my Boston burn surgeon’s diagnosis that my foot would always be painful, but I was not willing to let it completely stop me from doing the things I love to do. While on the trail, I had experimented with numerous ways to pad my foot to make walking tolerable. I found some configurations that worked better than others, but none was a good permanent fix. I was still walking crooked, causing pain to the top of my foot. I hoped the Mayo clinic would offer insights on how to make walking on the skin grafts more tolerable without throwing out my back and hip.

After about an hour on the phone with the Mayo Clinic, I was told they did not know what category to put me into and so could not schedule me! I didn’t fit their orthopedic, plastic surgery, or podiatry slots. The woman I spoke with suggested I call my doctor and have him make a referral to a particular department. By the time I hung up I was ready to cry. I had spent so much time since the explosion of my insole and subsequent burning of my foot immersed in the quagmire of trying to get medical appointments. I was not wanting to go back there.

After a good cry, I dealt with the little parts of me that felt unseen, misunderstood and alone in my pain. After that, I pulled myself together, dried my tears and called Peter, my wonderful sports medicine doctor. He agreed to make a referral to the Mayo Clinic’s sports medicine department.

While I was waiting for the referral to be sent and processed, I decided to visit my dear friend Susan. I met Susan years ago when she lived near me in Vermont. She has since returned to her home state of Minnesota. She invited me to spend some time with her while I was waiting to see what the Mayo Clinic would offer.

Before I left for Susan’s, I spent half a frustrating day trying to get my Garmin satellite device working properly. I was able to get some help, but it still was not functioning as it should have. Balancing out the frustration of that day was learning that my book, Meeting Mary Badass, was finally in print. I began to think I might stop hiking for now and go on a book tour.

I wished I knew was next for me, but decided to approach my future the same as I face not knowing what is around the corner on a hike, leaning into the unknown with curiosity rather than angst. I might find a beautiful meadow filled with wildflowers, a grizzly bear, or even both, as life always seems to include the entire spectrum of experiences. But whatever life threw at me, all these years of adventuring have taught me that I will find a way to deal with it.

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