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?
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