I stopped short and looked up while breathing heavily. The massive boulders – that now served as our trail – towered above me. Despite that I had climbed straight up for what seemed like forever, the peak was still nowhere in sight. Before even setting foot on this trail I had been warned about the tough and straight up climbs in The White Mountains in New Hampshire. And there was no doubt that the fearmongers had been right.

I pulled aside the curtain that cradled the motel room in dark serenity. Outside, the rain was pouring down with such an immense force that Vermont had declared a state of emergency due to the floods it had caused. Our plan was to only stay one night in the town of Manchester Center, but now it looked like we would have to extend it by one more.

The humidity hit me like a wall. I was soaked with sweat. Using my small, green and already soaked through towel was all I could do to keep the salty liquid from dripping off my face. I had been looking forward to entering the Mid-Atlantic states since the start of this trail, but now it proved more challenging than I thought.

I was excited. Not only were we going to reach the unofficial halfway point, but I would also get new shoes. Ever since reaching mile 500, I had been counting down the miles to Harper’s Ferry, a town in West Virginia. And reaching it was a major steppingstone – because if you make it halfway, you can make it all the way.