Equal Parts Anxious and Excited: A Trail Announcement

HOWDY, reader. You may remember my name or my face from last year’s Trek Blogging team on this same trail. (If not, I won’t be offended; it’s been a long time!) But in case you need a refresher…

My name is Madelyn, known on trails as Wrong Way. (On the Appalachian Trail in 2021, my now-husband noted a particularly strong sense of misdirection, but I promise I’ve gotten better at navigating trails since!)

I started the Continental Divide Trail last year with my friend Katie (I’m sure you’ve read many of her amazing pieces for The Trek!), and within a month, I had to leave the trail because of a stress fracture in my femur. Well… the femoral neck, basically where the femur and hip bones connect, but nobody’s heard of that. This type of hip fracture is more often associated with osteoporosis than thru-hiking, but I’m not bitter about it, nope nope nope!

I went into last year’s hike more arrogant than I’d like to admit. I’d never experienced a severe hiking injury. I’d done nothing more or less to prepare for the Continental Divide Trail than I had for the Appalachian Trail or Colorado Trail, and neither of those resulted in a trail-ending injury, so why would this one? I still don’t really know.

My last day on the CDT, trying desperately to elevate my leg to try to reduce injury

Getting off trail so early into last year’s CDT attempt shook me to my complacent core. It took several months to work back toward the basics of taking a walk around the block, and very deliberate and gradual building toward what I would consider to be regular activities. As someone who was fairly accustomed to hiking 20+ miles with minimal thought, it was beyond frustrating to not be able to hike — or walk — at all.

Fortunately, the location of the stress fracture was such that I didn’t need surgery to recover. Just time. And believe me, I gave my time. Once the bone mended itself, I had to ease back into activity to re-strengthen the dormant muscles, tendons, and ligaments that had atrophied severely during the months of unuse. I’ve followed a strict walking, hiking, and running progression, done daily stretches, and consulted numerous orthopedists and physical therapists about my progress.

One of my fist hikes, over 2 months after getting off the CDT, was a 0.8 mile paved hike in Rocky Mountain. I wasn’t allowed to do more than 1 mile, unweighted, for several weeks.

The last 9 months have seen a drastic change in how I plan for a thru-hike. In 2021, I hiked the Appalachian Trail as a 25-year-old with almost no experience or training; in 2022 and 2023, I section hiked the Colorado Trail with vastly more experience but, again, no training; so in 2024, when I set out to do the Continental Divide Trail, I didn’t think I needed to do a training regiment outside of the regular active lifestyle I already have. This injury sounded the alarm that my body, while still in my 20s (for a few more months… *cue the existential crisis about turning 30 this year*), is getting older, and I need to take care of it better than I have been.

The version of me that is setting out on the CDT this year is so different than the version of me a year ago. Last year’s me could barely fathom the idea of an unsuccessful trail completion; this year’s me is equal parts excited that I get another shot at this hike and anxious about the injury risks that had never scared me before.

I can’t wait to get back to the San Juan mountains!!!

Here’s to all of us that are getting back on the proverbial horse after getting bucked off, whether it was one year ago or ten. This is our year.