I’m not starting this walk in April as someone who trusts herself to finish things.

I’ve failed to hike the Pacific Crest Trail three times. Fully planned, totally committed, epically quit.

Clearly, I carry that history with me. It defines me for me, even though it probably doesn't mean much to anyone else.

But I'm trying again anyway. Like, what the hell. Why not try again. Isn't that what life's about or something? Maybe on my deathbed I'll be able to say, "I figured out how to keep trying. Yay me!"

Cool. Cool. Cool.