That night I laid on my bed, imagining how I could work out my life. I tried to think of a sport I could pursue. Then the thought struck me: I could hike the Appalachian Trail. I didn't see any reason why not. I made up my mind at moment. I was going to hike the Appalachian trail.
When I went to tell my mother this fantastic idea of hiking, she gave me a clear resounding “No.” It hurt, but I had made up my mind; I'd get her to agree one way or another. I started educating myself about the hiker culture. Most of the advice was to pack light. I took it all in. One thing I learned was to have trail runners instead of hiking boots. This is because hiking boots weight considerably more, putting more strain on a hikers back.
When I tried explaining this concept to my mother. She started to argue with me, and then two of my siblings joined in on the debate. I felt pinned down, not knowing how to defend myself. I didn't expect myself to be slapped around verbally by three people. The whole incident left me feeling hopeless. My mother gave me the impression that if I was silly enough not know what kind of shoe to hike with, how was I ever going to survive hiking the entire Appalachian Trail?
Wow the world of writing is hard. I thought I was about finished writing my book about hiking the entire Appalachian Trail. Now I'm not so sure. I could use some input on the first three paragraphs. Are they gripping enough?
I was frustrated when she responded with less enthusiasm. Hiking was her idea of a senior trip. I had sent my mind loose day-dreaming about a saunter in the woods. The more I talked about the trip the more I knew we would never actually do it. I graduated high school and life went on. I forgot the whole idea and went about my life trying to figure out my future. I put the whole Appalachian trail adventure on the back burner.
The idea of the Appalachian Trail did not arise again until after I was excitedly planning on getting a treadmill. I would tell anybody that would listen about how I was going to get my own treadmill. And how I was going to get in tiptop shape. I imagined being much more thin and fit. Finally I found a treadmill I was ready to buy. I had the money. Everything seemed to be lining up, but when I approached my father about having a treadmill, he said, “Not in my house,” cutting down every hope I had built up, like he cuts down trees everyday.
I lived in a crowded house. My father worked as the owner of a tree trimming company and my mother worked at a christian theater sewing up costumes. If the average number of kids is two and a half, they have twice the average number of children. Making me the middle of five. People would tell me, “The middle child is the forgotten child.” I never believed them. I had an older sister to make sure I didn't do anything stupid. And three brothers to be competitive with.
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