Day 4- Jenn

The 17 ish mile stretch from our wonderful morning home to scissors crossing was by far the hardest thing I've done in a really long time. My body decided that today was the day to let me know how it really felt after multiple 20 mile days- blisters on several toes, pain in my left foot so bad I didn't know what to do, and a right knee that pinged with anger each time I took a downward step. As always, the first step in the morning was almost crippling, but with each ongoing movement the morning stiffness subsides and is swiftly followed by the relentless throbbing and discovery of new pains. We knew it was a long descent to scissors crossing with a few small climbs thrown in here and there for good measure. With each climb I prayed for a downhill section, yet within 10 downhill steps I prayed for an uphill section to relieve my discomfort. This schizophrenic pattern went on most of the day as the temperature rose and the trail became more and more exposed to the sun. Greenery gave way to beautiful hot pink blooming cactus flowers that I dreamt were left just for me by all of the hundreds of hikers that had taken the same steps I was now taking. Something about that really calmed me and put things into perspective. What kind of perspective I'm not sure, maybe I just felt less alone and a sense of reassurance. After hours of silently and sometimes audibly dropping F bombs on the desert (and immediately apologizing to it for doing so) the trail leveled out and I got my groove on, knowing the end of the day and Matt were somewhere near by. I trudged into scissors crossing and saw 6-7 hikers who, upon first glance completely understood how I felt, Matt in all his hobo glory, and ice chests that I knew had soul touching beer and sodas in them. I couldn't help but cry at overwhelming sensation of a lot of thing at once- the ability of my body  to do crazy things, the kindness of strangers to leave water and goodies for us under a highway, the realization that I would have really hard days and be able to get through them, and the fact that my husband was there to simultaneoulsy love me and let me suffer. I drank the best beer ever and seamlessly hitched a ride into Julian in the back of a windowless van. Upon arrival, the wonderful driver that picked us up opened the doors to sunshine an a community of hikers just as dirty and happy as us. The remainder of our day was spent lounging, hydrating, eating, showering, draining blisters, and washing clothes in the sink. And for all of that I am grateful.