Chapter 6
The Roadside Park State
I walked into Kansas with all of the general preconceived notions about Kansas. I assumed it would be flat, endless wheat fields, and generally not much else to it. I had learned along the course of this walk that states were much different than I thought. It was one thing to hypothesize and it was another to actually experience it. As I distanced myself from Atchison, KS, a small border town just across the bridge to the west of Missouri I realized the landscape was exactly as I had pictured. I could look out and see miles ahead of me. I would continue on highway 36 for the entirety of the state. Over 400 miles of walking due west along the northern edge of Kansas. I always had the idea that everything was about to change when I entered a new state. I feared the unknown. I feared the people of this new state wouldn’t welcome me. They wouldn’t want anything to do with me. I felt like I had to prove myself as an upstanding citizen all over again. The ability to see land so far away in the distance made me feel like I wasn’t covering any ground. The never ending scenery of flat grass land and wheat fields made me feel like I was walking on a treadmill. I was nervous about camping in this place. There was nowhere to hide. A storm was coming. I relentlessly searched for something, anything that would keep me somewhat hidden and safe but it was nowhere to be found. I reluctantly set up my tent as dark approached. The heavy winds of the storm began to sweep across the tall grass. The winds always seemed to pick up when I needed to unfold my tarp. I was camped in long grass with muddy soil a few hundred feet off of the highway between the road and a field of flattened farmland. I laid down that night with real fear. I was afraid the darkness alone wouldn’t keep me hidden from these new people that I knew nothing about. I was afraid of being hit with yet another Midwestern storm with nothing to protect me. The rain was scheduled to fall any minute and I was on tornado warning had been sent out. This was the first time of the walk that I dearly missed the comforts of home. The next town, Horton was 16 miles away. I thought of getting up and walking there, but I couldn’t justify how it would better my situation. I had already walked 30 miles and I was exhausted but my fear kept me alert, along with the trains that passed on the nearby tracks every hour. Sounding its jolting horn as it passed just to remind me of how uncomfortable I had already become in Kansas. The hours passed as I stared into the cover of my tent wondering what was happening outside of my tent. The rain never came. I peeked my head through the zipper to make sure the world had not disappeared around me. Everything looked the same. I was dry. The night had passed without major consequence. Maybe everything would be okay after all. Welcome to Kansas I thought to myself.
The chilled air continued to jab me in the face as I continued west. The wind continued even into the warm afternoon. I even saw a real life tumbleweed bounce across the pavement. The night before as the storm missed me I learned that tornadoes had touched down all over the Midwest stretching from Texas to Nebraska. Tornado warnings were issued once again the following night. I had never seen a tornado before. Brandee had given me a short tutorial on how to identify dark funnel like clouds in the sky as being an early sign of a tornado approaching. “Get as low as you can” I remembered her instructing me.
The walk through Kansas had to be executed a certain way. The weather was constantly wet accompanied by heavy winds. Towns were routinely between 26 and 34 miles apart with absolutely nothing in-between. I feared being stuck in the middle of nowhere when a storm hit. My goal was to reach a new town at the end of each day, and so began my roadside park tour of Kansas. Every town, no matter how small would always have a small roadside park along the highway. They all consisted of at least one awning that would act as a roof for me to sleep under to stay dry. I learned all of this from a man named Joe who I met outside of the Wal Mart in Hiawatha. You can find many strange people near a Wal Mart. I was living proof of that as I had become a regular at each location I could find. A smaller more exclusive group of people were those who slept behind Wal Mart’s. I was a part of that club as well. In fact I didn’t know it could be a club until Joe informed me that was in fact where he had slept the previous night. He walked up to me slowly in the parking lot. He had a large pack on his back and another, even larger duffel bag strapped around his chest. His movements were staggered, slowly waddling towards me because of all of the weight he had burdened himself with. “Do you need any food”? He asked in desperation. “Please take some food from me.” In my current situation, this felt like the deal of a lifetime. He threw down his bags and opened them up. “Take anything you want” he needed to lighten his load. He wouldn’t say why it was exactly that he was on foot and why he had so much food with him. He didn’t know where he was headed. He told me he was from Seattle. That was about it. He didn’t seem like he wanted to explain his situation. All he knew was that he needed to carry less weight if he wanted to go anywhere, and I was a prime candidate to help him out. He explained to me how all of the towns had parks that he had been sleeping in along Highway 36. I figured I would do the same thing. After all I really had no plan or any real idea of what I was doing. It was decided I would reach a town every day and sleep in the various parks.
First up was Seneca, 30 miles west. I slept in the dugout of a baseball field next to the local high school. It was a necessity to sleep on the aluminum bench because of overnight flooding. The bench did not make a great sleeping surface. I sat up and watched as the field quickly fill up with water. The water flooded down into the dugout. The rain filled the dugout in seconds. I watched the water rise closer and closer to my aluminum bed.
Once again the next stop was 30 miles down the road. I became a walking machine. Everything was structured. I knew I had to make it to the next town each day. For some reason the rain usually held off until the late afternoon. My goal became to walk ten miles by 10 am. Twenty miles by 2 pm, and to always reach my destination before nightfall. I knew I was entering the last leg of my walk as the local water tower came into view on the horizon. Every town had a water tower marking their town. I could usually see them hovering over what looked to be bushes from miles away. It was such an accomplishment to reach and finally read the name of the town on these water towers. This one read “Marysville, Kansas.” I approached yet another baseball field. There was nobody in sight. I walked up to the batter’s box like I had done thousands of times in my life. I felt like I was back in a previous life. I imitated holding a bat and got into my stance. I looked out at the mound at an invisible pitcher. I could imagine a mistake pitch. A fastball on the inner half of the plate. I took a swing and I could still feel the sensation of a ball hitting the barrel smoothly as I drove the nonexistent ball in the gap off the left center field wall. I took off and rounded first hard and slid into second with a double. It was Jake Taylor-esque display from the movie “Major League.” I loved this game. Why did this have to be behind me? I stood there on second base wondering if I could ever try and play again. Would everyone think I was foolish for trying? Would they think I was trying to hang on when I had no business doing so? I hadn’t decided I would ever play again. It was just a thought and I was already worried about what others might possibly think. I needed to know how I felt. I didn’t know if I could handle the failure of this game any longer. Being away from the game for a couple years now I didn’t even know if I still held any real talent, or if I could ever get it back. After all of my head injuries, and time away from the game I just assumed it was behind me. Once I reached a certain age I felt like my story had already been written and I could never go back. Why was that? Here I was, standing on second base, on this journey where I learn every day that anything is within my reach. Is it crazy to think I could play again? I was embarrassed with the way I had to quit baseball. I was never told I wasn’t good enough. I just got hurt one day and then it was over. I felt like I had unfinished business with this game. The positivity I embraced in myself made it all seem so simple. I had learned to look first at how I can accomplish something opposed to how I couldn’t. Maybe I wasn’t good enough anymore, but it would be nice to know for sure. I got goosebumps as I rounded third and scored on an imaginary base hit. I felt a rush as I sat down in the dugout and pondered these thoughts. It would be poetic. To walk back home and give this game another shot, or would it be like taking a skeleton out of the closet and laying it out for all to see? I had to slow down my now racing mind. I had so much to do and so far to walk before anything could happen. A lot of other shit had to happen first. I retreated to left field where I slept that night. It was strange sleeping out there on the field. I dreamed of playing baseball quite often throughout my life. I would always dream of a game situation, and in every dream I would fail. I would make an out to end the game or make an error. Sometimes I would get into an argument and get thrown out of the game all together. That was until I stopped playing. The dreams continued, but I was always victorious in these more recent dreams. I never knew why that was. I slept under a rare clear sky that night. I looked up at the Midwestern stars and realized they were routinely more beautiful than any sky I had seen back home. They were visually beautiful. The clouds, so detailed, like a painting. That was on the nights it didn’t rain, which extremely rare. It rained nine out of the first twelve nights I spent in Kansas since leaving my Cousin Andrew’s house.
The predictability of Kansas made the walking more mentally strenuous. I had to focus more on distracting myself to keep my mind occupied. I had to escape the monotony of walking though wide open flat farmland every day. My addiction to soda was still in full force. I couldn’t wait to reach a new town where I could indulge in a large Mountain Dew or Orange Fanta if I was feeling frisky. One particular day in Kansas, I noticed a convenience store on the map between towns. This would be a first. There wasn’t usually any buildings between towns. I was excited, knowing I could get my plastic bottle of sugar earlier than usual. I was hooked on the stuff. Through Kansas I probably guzzled down far more soda than water. I approached a warehouse that sat in the midst of an unkempt grass field. Broken down cars parked that looked like they had been left for dead. A short log fence surrounded a small shack that resembled the one I slept in back in South Carolina. This was it. As I got closer it became clear that this was not an operating business and there would be no drinks for sale. I looked off into the distance in the field behind the shack where I saw four disconnected gas pumps lying awkwardly among the waist high grass. I guess it was nice to know this place actually existed at one point. I had to reach for small facts like this to bring me comfort in a place I didn’t fully understand yet. I learned here that if google maps told me something existed, it wasn’t for certain. Not here at least. There were many things I had taken for granted: sunshine, outlets, a pillow between my knees when I slept, a warm bath, businesses that are still operating, just to name a few.
Everything was going according to plan. Despite the continued thunderstorms and nearby tornadoes, I managed to walk over 30 miles every day to reach my destination. I was getting stronger. Small town to small town I traveled. A few hours outside of Mankato a woman stopped to talk to me. Roadside encounters were becoming more unusual in Kansas. I treasured these interactions. Amy introduced herself and stopped just to talk. She wondered why exactly it was that I felt I needed to walk across the country. I got this question a lot. Usually I asked myself the same thing. She told me to give her a call if the weather got to be too much. She lived just outside of Mankato and she could find me a place to stay. She handed me a two dollar bill to remember her by if we never crossed paths again. These roadside interactions always seemed to give me a spark. I felt reenergized as I marched the final ten miles towards Mankato. Upon arrival I walked into the first corner store I saw to feed my sugar addiction. The older woman at the cash register told me she had seen me walking earlier in the day. Another woman’s voice sounded behind me “I know you from Facebook.” I looked back at her is confusion. “How is that”? I asked. She pulled out her phone and showed me. Apparently Amy who I had met a few hours earlier had taken my photo and posted it, along with the details of my journey I had shared with her. As we were all looking this over, two high school looking kids walked up to the growing line and looked at me. “You’re Mitch right? I knew I recognized that cart outside.” Now I was completely overwhelmed. I had more friends here than back home, and I had only been here a few minutes. They explained to me that everyone knew Amy. “She is like the Mayor.” The woman behind me said. “I wish my son was here to meet you, he is out there somewhere riding his dirt bike.” I felt like a celebrity in this town of 800. They pointed me in the direction of the park, which was right on the other side of the parking lot. It was a larger park than I was used to. A full size replica army tank sat displayed at the top of the hill on the other side of the park shelters. I sat down at a picnic table, feeling accomplished. The unmistakable sound of a motor hit my ears. A kid on a dirt bike cruised by. That must have been her son. It was like I had lived here my entire life. I guess this was small town living.
I slept under a picnic table under a large luxurious park shelter. It had bathrooms, outlets and a short cinder block wall to shield the wind. Everything I could possibly need. I listened to the fierce winds whistle through the trees and shake the hanging branches. I grew to appreciate Midwestern storms when under cover. When I had the opportunity to remove myself from it, the storm itself was beautiful. I never saw anything like this in central California.
I woke up to the sight of the rain still falling. The sun left and came back, but the rain never stopped. I decided I would stick around in Mankato for another day. I sat and watched several kids head towards the park, only to turn around at the sight of a homeless man living there. Later in the afternoon, three kids finally worked up the courage to enter my shelter. More than likely just to get out of the rain. A young boy who looked to be about eight years old found two dead snakes on the playground. I cringed as he dragged them both across the pavement behind him, holding them by their heads. He proceeded swing them around in a circle on the cement while his two sisters treated them like dual Skip It’s. I couldn’t believe I was witnessing this. After several skips they began to turn their attention to me. The brother and two sisters asked me why I was sleeping here. “I’m walking across America” I said proudly, thinking that would impress these kids. Their parents had moved them here a couple years back from northern California. They told me stories of hunting with their dad and capturing spiders and snakes back in California. I told them I was also from California. They asked if I had ever been hunting, I hadn’t. People would often tell me how courageous I was for taking this journey on by myself. These kids could see right through me. I was still afraid of most all animals, especially snakes. I was beginning to feel strong and fearless the further I walked, but these three kids made me feel like a complete pussy. Another man who looked to be about thirty took cover under the shelter. He began screaming outlandishly at the sight of the two dead snakes still in the hands of the young boy. His high pitched squeal only empowered the boy to begin to chase this man with his snakes. Once everything settled down they all had a laugh. It appeared they all knew each other. I guess everyone did in a town of 800. We all sat down and got to talking. The man, Dustin began to sip from his fifth of whiskey held in a brown paper bag. He was far more impressed by my efforts than any of the kids. “I knew you were here, in fact I only came here to look for you.” I was a little uncomfortable as he continued to look at me. He told me he was gay, and he had just had a complete breakdown as he put it. “Don’t worry I’m not going to hit on you or anything.” When he found out I was planning on sleeping in the park he insisted that I sleep on his couch. With all of the wonderful people I had met so far, I felt like I could trust everyone completely. At the same time I was still feeling a little uneasy as we walked up the hill passed the tank and towards his apartment. He filled me in on the details of his “breakdown.” He couldn’t stand how the people of the town treated him. He didn’t feel accepted by his peers in this very small town. This was a religious town. He hated how religion had become the barrier between him and his town. He was religious himself, but he still couldn’t help but feel like an outsider. He told me he had just quit his job at the convenience store I had visited the day before. His drinking had gotten to be a bit out of control to cope with his situation. He helped me lift my cart over the steps and into his apartment. The floor was covered in liquor bottles, garbage, clothing, and old CD’s. I was beginning to think about what I had gotten myself into. Not really knowing what to say I asked where the bathroom was. I stepped over the pile of trash and down the hall. As I entered the bathroom, I could hear Damien from the living room. He now remembered the night before, “Ohhh shit I forgot I just barfed in there.” I closed the door behind me and saw for myself. He was right. Not only was there barf in the toilet, but on it. It was covered, as well as the floor. I held my breath for the entirety of my bathroom visit. I couldn’t leave him now. I had to stay. I poured myself a glass of his whiskey as he cleared the recliner of debris so I could sit down. The conversation dug deep in a hurry. He explained all of the misery he had been feeling. “I feel like you were sent here to help me” he claimed. Looking for something to believe in. “You are God to me.” He proclaimed. “The way you wanted something and you just changed everything in order to do it, and now you are here, I can’t believe it.” He broke down into tears. I could see he wanted to escape so desperately. I could see the pain he was feeling. He didn’t want to feel like this anymore, most of all he just seemed like he needed someone to talk to. To listen and understand what he had been up against. He told me he rarely talked to his mom anymore. He wanted to move home to Dodge City, and be with his family but he didn’t know how. He pulled out his phone to call his mom, but there was no answer. I began to share some of the new found wisdom the road had given me. The mind games I played with myself to always find the brighter side of any situation. I didn’t know if it would help, because after all some situations are just simply more difficult than others. As we were able to find more stable ground, I really enjoyed getting to know Damien. I was intrigued at how differently lives could unfold. His spirits seemed to be lifted as he turned up the stereo and began to dance right there in the living room.
After a few songs I decided to head towards the liquor store on down the street to get some beer. He didn’t want me to leave. I felt like I needed a minute alone to process everything that was unfolding before my eyes. “I’ll be right back” I told him. I walked past the tank and through the park once again, leaving my cart in the midst of the storm in the living room. I grabbed a six pack of beer and once again I was recognized. The only other customer in the store questioned me “you’re Mitch right”? I never got used to complete strangers knowing me by name. Apparently the three kids at the park playing with the snakes were her kids. We continued our conversation out to the parking lot when suddenly a green SUV pulled up next to us. The window rolled down and it was Damien. I knew he didn’t have a car so I was confused. Plus I had only left his apartment maybe 15 minutes prior to this. I looked over at the driver. It was elderly woman who looked to be the oldest human being I had ever seen. She seemed completely dis-interested in the situation. “Where have you been”? Damien asked in a panic. “I thought you left me, I was getting ready to throw all of your stuff out.” He was protective of me. “Get in the car” he demanded. The woman I was talking to looked at me like I was crazy when I actually got in. I wanted to get to know my new friend. He wasn’t a bad guy. He was misunderstood, I thought. I couldn’t leave him like this. The silent elderly woman drove us back to Damien’s house. She got out of the car with us. She lived two apartments down. We walked back inside and sat down. We picked up right where we left off. Talking and drinking. He invited his friend Katie over as well as his neighbor Jake. Jake possessed a strong southern accent. He brought over his extensive CD collection. It had been years since someone had showed me their CD collection. I remembered having a full binder’s worth of CD’s when I was a kid. They seemed to go away when MP3 players were invented. Judging by the amount of scratched up discs on the floor Damien must have had a large collection of his own. Kansas was behind on the times as CD’s were still the primary means of listening to music. He broke out his “Now 6” cd and played it. I remembered crying when I received “Now 3” for Christmas when I was 9. I didn’t know “Now” was still making cd’s. Apparently there are over 90 of them now. As the alcohol flowed the singing became more apparent from Jake. Before long I found myself in a group sing along of Destiny’s Child “Bills, Bills, Bills.” I remembered all of these songs growing up. I used to get home from school and watch Total Request Live, or “TRL” on MTV hosted by Carson Daly. They would countdown the top ten music videos on a daily basis. What ever happened to Carson Daly? This situation reminded me of when I lived in Irvine, CA and was playing baseball at Concordia University. Me my roommates and a revolving door of others would walk across the street to a Mexican restaurant that served 5$ pitchers during happy hour. We would spend what money we had on alcohol. We would then return home to get ready for the night ahead. Once ready we gathered around out old circular wooden table. “Roundtable” we called the actions that were to follow. We poured glasses of Four Loko around the table. Four Loko’s were a caffeinated alcoholic beverage. It was 12% alcohol with various different flavors to choose from and came in a tall 24 ounce can. We usually went with fruit punch. You didn’t drink Four Loko’s casually. You drank them to get fucked up. Plain and simple. We drank as we took turns playing our favorite old songs from TRL. We drank and we sang at the top of our lungs until it was time to go out. Sometimes roundtable even became the headlining event of the night. Here I was, in Mankato, KS doing the same thing four years later with complete strangers. All we were missing was the round wooden table.
My stay in Mankato had been quite the roller coaster ride. I almost forgot I needed to get up and walk the next day. I forgot what I was doing. I was hungover, and I was off once again. I was in and out of everyone’s life just like that. It was time for me to move on. I still had unfinished business. The storm had passed for the moment. It was calm out. Clear skies. I felt like I could look down the road and see Colorado to the west. There were virtually no cars on the road. A white pickup truck passed me and turned around. It turned around once again only to pull over alongside me. It was a white haired man who was a pastor in Burr Oak, a nearby town. He claimed he had never stopped to talk to anybody on the road before. He claimed he felt a force urging him to stop. He told me he felt like I was lost and that I needed to find the lord. He explained how he didn’t find God until he was 50 years old. I stood their listening, crossing my arms to cover up the “Rage Against the Machine” shirt my cousin Ben had sent to me in Kansas City. I had to attempt to shield the pastor from the graphic of nuns with guns. He didn’t seem to notice as he explained the sermon he had given the previous Sunday. A bridge is held together by a keystone. If the keystone fails, the entire bridge fails. “You need to find your Keystone” he said to me with conviction. I wasn’t religious myself, but I always enjoyed listening to beliefs of all kinds. If anybody felt this passionate about anything, who am I to tell them they are wrong? Maybe I would find god someday. Maybe I just needed to find my keystone. I didn’t in that moment, but I won’t write anything off as being impossible. Not anymore. He handed me a $100 bill and told me to get some food when I reached the next town. This unknown place called Kansas was becoming the closest thing to comfort I had felt since leaving home.
Katie, Damien’s friend from Mankato had told me about the geographical center of the United States. It was located a few miles outside of Lebanon. Lebanon was just over twenty miles west of Mankato. I called it a short day as I exited Highway 36 for the first time and walked the mile north towards Lebanon. A beautiful day began to feel spooky as I approached the town of 200. Everything felt old and empty. I walked up to the only market in town still trying to feel this place out. It was a small market, about the size of my bedroom back home. It was a weekday afternoon and the store was closed. All of the lights were off. I hadn’t seen a person yet, I wondered if people actually lived here and if this market was ever open. Nats and mosquitoes filled the air through this entire town. I sat down on the curb spitting out bugs that had made their way into my mouth. I looked down the street at the line of houses. I saw people. An elderly couple sitting in rocking chairs out on their front porch. They had already seen me, I felt like they were studying my every move. I continued to look down the street only to see a similar older couple on every single porch I saw lining the only street in town. There was no movement from them. I was wondering if this town was empty, little did I know I had an audience watching me. It felt like these folks didn’t know what it was like outside of this town. I was far too uncomfortable to attempt to talk to any of these porch sitters. Two bright orange foxes wandered the street and into the town park. I had never even seen a fox before. I didn’t know they just roamed towns. An eerie feeling came over me. Everything was off. I didn’t know if I would ever understand this place. This place was so different from anywhere I had been in my entire life. Nothing particularly scary was happening to me but I was scared to death. The mosquitoes were eating at my legs. In a matter of minutes I was itching uncontrollably. My cell phone didn’t have any service. Where the hell was I? The old couples still looked on. It was like they were waiting to die. I couldn’t stay here. I quickly turned around and escaped this town. There was no life in Lebanon.
The new plan was to walk to the center of the US that night. I didn’t really know what was there, but I knew I had to go somewhere else. I walked fast out of town. Once I got far enough the bugs that once filled the air disappeared. I guess they only tortured the ones that found themselves stuck in Lebanon. Even the name sounded like a planet. Maybe it was just another planet. That is surely what it felt like. I hurriedly got as far away as I could, trying to shake the fear that suffocated my mind. I found myself amidst nothing. The harsh winds picked up as I walked down a road that had no life near it. I felt like I was discovering the west once again. At the end of a dirt road there was a house next to a park. A tall flagpole with the state flag flapped vigorously in the wind. There was a picnic table with a roof over it and nobody to be found. The park sat up against an old motel called the “U.S. Center Motel.” It appeared to have been abandoned. I couldn’t imagine this place ever being a booming tourist destination. A small shed sat at the edge of the park grass. A small wooden cross placed the top and it read “U.S. Center Chapel.” I walked towards it expecting to open the door and find the source of evil that was haunting the town of Lebanon. Inside was a tiny church equipped with a podium and six pews that could hold one person each. I sat inside for a moment to rid myself of the vicious winds. I couldn’t help but reflect in this shack. I could now say I was halfway home. I was at the geographical center of the United States. I was officially half way across. I had walked 1500 miles. I thought how amazing it was to see firsthand what a person could accomplish if they felt they really needed to. I slept cuddled up to the flagpole marking the U.S. center that night. I can now say I have slept in the center of the country.
I weaved through dirt roads to find my way back to the highway. Pastures of cows lining the dirt roads the entire way. I always thought it was funny to look at a field of cows and see that they were always starring directly back at me. It was funny because that was now how people treated me. The cows were no different. They would run up and line the fences as I passed. I would talk to them. They worked in teams. The next group would run and settle along the stretch of road I was heading towards. Then the second team gathered further down the road. They all wanted to get a closer look at me. It was like a game of leapfrog until I reached the highway. The game continued with humans as I entered Smith Center which according to the sign as I entered town was named after Major J. Nelson Smith who was a casualty of the Civil War. This was actually a notable sign. Some towns greeted me with the strangest signs. Small facts that would somehow make you want to stop and visit the various small villages. I remembered walking into Mankato only a couple days prior to see their welcoming sign. It read “National bb gun Champions” then it listed the years they had won this prestigious award. I didn’t know bb guns were a sport. Who was giving out these awards? The people of Smith Center looked on as I entered town. I sat on the corner of an intersection to sit down and get some water. An old couple very slowly rolled by in their baize Oldsmobile. They almost came to a complete stop and looked on with wide eyes and open mouths. I, somehow was the most fascinating thing they had ever seen. It was like they had seen a ghost. When I looked back at them, they quickly looked forward like nothing had happened. They turned right at the intersection. Still moving far too slow. The woman turned around completely in her passenger seat to see me once again while the man’s eyes were locked on me through the rear view mirror. They had no regard for the road. The car, still moving at a snail’s pace began to veer over into the lane of oncoming traffic. Luckily there were no other cars around as they stayed distracted from the task at hand. This continued until the car hit the curb on the other side of the street abruptly stopping the car. They finally snapped out of their sixty second daze. They backed up and continued on with their lives, much like the cows were forced to do earlier on in the day when I reached the highway and there was nothing left to look at.
I was over half way through Kansas. I was feeling no effects of walking. It had become like breathing to me. It just happened. Despite a couple of flat tires I continued on. I changed tire tubes like a pro. A far cry from my first run in with a flat. I made an observation as I walked through Kansas. I no longer laid up at night thinking about my life. I laid down and slept. The effects of walking no longer tired me out. I wasn’t sleeping in more comfortable areas. I was on the ground most nights. I was using my mind and challenging myself. I conquered the days leaving me nothing left to regret at the end of the day and stew over.
I spent my 25th birthday walking 33 miles from Phillipsburg to Norton, KS. I treated it as just another day. It was funny, I felt younger and more energized than I had felt in a long time. I remembered telling my dad the previous year on my birthday that I needed to do something. I needed to accomplish something once again. I felt like yet another year had passed and there was nothing for me to look back on and be proud of. . I didn’t know what I wanted for myself. All I knew was that I felt empty. This year was different. I challenged myself to accomplish something I wanted, and I was doing just that. Growing up, birthdays never felt like a big deal to me. I still felt the same way as I walked into Norton and sat down at a small roadside park. Birthdays were usually a day I would spend time with friends and family. It almost became routine. As I sat there in the park I realized how important it actually was. I would have killed to celebrate with the ones close to me. All of my emotions hit me at once. I began to cry, thinking about how much I missed everyone back home. I was alone. I felt it more than ever 79 days into the walk.
Trying to cheer myself up, I walked across the street to get myself a fancy birthday dinner. The only real option was a “7-11”. My birthday dinner consisted of nachos and a Mountain Dew. A real treat. I had to work for it though. I always made the same mistake when preparing gas station nachos. I would always get overly excited and open the chips. I would pour them into the tray before even testing the cheese dispenser. This is obviously a rookie mistake because if the cheese isn’t flowing properly, I’m screwed. I already opened the chips, I had already committed to the purchase of the nachos. This time it was just like any other, I was stuck with the cheese at the bottom of the bag. No flow, just random droplets of cheese would pop out. Asking the cashier to change the bag is simply out of the question. This goes back to my issues from working in customer service. Very meager drops of cheese haphazardly fell and I began to treat the cheese dispenser like a pinball machine. I pumped the button as fast as I possibly could in order to salvage these birthday nachos. After about 150 pumps, I was able to look down at some very respectable nachos. I earned those birthday nachos.
I looked up the seven day forecast as I enjoyed my well-deserved nachos on the curb in front of the “7-11”. The next seven days were slated for a 50% chance of thunderstorms, every day. Sometimes the anticipation of rain was just as bad as rain. I couldn’t relax knowing I could be stuck in a storm with no cover between towns. The next town was Oberlin, 34 miles away. I was ready for a new state. I decided to just keep going despite the weather. It was only a 50% chance, I could get lucky. The way I figured it I needed roughly 10 hours to get to Oberlin. All I had to do was win 10 coin flips and I was there. Wouldn’t you know it, I won every single one of them. I walked into Oberlin dry. Maybe things would come easier in my 26th year. I found cover in the roadside park and looked on as the thunderstorm finally took hold. Tornado warnings were once again in effect. The wind and rain acted as if they were trying to punish the earth. The thunder felt like it was shattering the ground. It was the loudest thunder I had ever heard. It was also the loudest noise I had ever heard in my life. I looked down at a crack in the pavement next to my head. I tried to figure out if it was there just moments before. The thunder was so jarring I thought it could have possibly cracked the cement next to my head.
I was on a mission to get through Kansas. I was walking further each day. I cruised to Atwood. Once there I decided to try and reach St. Francis the next day. St. Francis would be the last town I would see before crossing into Nebraska from the south. The idea of getting so close to a new state motivated me. I would need to walk 43 miles to get there. I would have to take the longest walk of my life, but I was up for the challenge. Everything was on schedule I walked through Macdonald in the morning, Bird City in the afternoon. Both were technically towns but didn’t offer much. I didn’t have time to even think about stopping anyways, I promised myself I would reach St. Francis. Leaving Bird City, I had 15 more miles to go. It seemed too easy at first. A red haired English woman had stopped and handed me 20$. She told me to give her a call when I reached town and she would have a place for me to stay. She couldn’t explain fully. She was missing one of her front teeth. Apparently it had happened that day and she was heading to a friend’s house where the missing tooth was. She left before I could ask any follow up questions. I had to finish what I had started. 10 miles to go, all I could think about was that damn missing tooth. My mind began to reach unimaginable heights as I walked further than I ever had before. I hadn’t felt this way since Laurie rescued me from the rain back in Canton, GA. I began to hallucinate. I would giggle uncontrollably at times. I saw a picture in my head of what I looked like out on the road. I saw two giant eyeballs. Not normal eyeballs, the googly ones that popped out of those novelty glasses. The two googly eyes pushed a cart down the road. For some reason I was powerless to the thought of this image. There was no turning back now. Seven miles to go. As my body became overly exhausted, I felt the need to move my body more to keep me energized. I felt a weight on top of my head weighing me down. The sensation I felt forced me to sway my head in a back and forth, side to side motion. It felt right to move. The music began to fuel me. I got lost in the sound of my headphones. I examined the sky. It was so clear. The clouds were so defined and three dimensional. They felt closer to me than ever before. I felt like I could reach out and touch them. I thought about all of the experiences I had in Kansas as it was soon coming to a close. What if this place was so different because it was separate from the other states? Maybe nobody here could actually escape, even if they wanted to. I grew skeptical of the sky. It was picture perfect. Too perfect, maybe it wasn’t even real. It was just a giant wall painted to look like the most beautiful sky. It was an illusion. I would have to walk up to the wall and open a door that would lead me west to Colorado. I became very aware of my evolving body movements. My shoulders were now punching forward, switching off, alternating. Right, left, right, left. My head still swaying, my fingers erratically tapping the handle of my cart. I was in a rhythm, some sort of trance. Three miles to go. I realized I was now power walking. Pushing myself forward with more force than ever. I didn’t feel tired. It was like I was sleepwalking. Just floating. How was this possible? “Shhhh” the voice in my head said. “Don’t ruin this, don’t tell him how fast he is walking, enjoy the ride.” Before I knew it, the water tower came into view. I reached St. Francis.
Teresa, the red haired woman who had misplaced her tooth met me there. She drove slowly as I walked alongside her. We teamed up and headed into town together. She led me to one of her vacant rental properties. She had brought with her water and a flashlight. The house did not have any power. She revealed that she had found the tooth. It was a great day for all. She told me she was from Virginia. She used to backpack all of the time, which is what drew her to me. Her life had taken a 25 year detour as she had explained it. She never planned on being here, but here she was. She told me of her plans to get back out there and begin doing things for herself again. She wanted to backpack all around the world. She left me there in that empty house. I laid down in the middle of the living room and couldn’t help but feel proud. On the surface not much happened that day. I walked from one town to another. The journey I experienced felt like everything happened that day. 43 miles was the longest walk of my life. I created this outcome for myself. I was only a short walk from entering Nebraska and the Mountain Time zone. I could feel myself getting closer. I entered this state with fear of the unknown. I was leaving with more confidence than ever. I grew a year older in this state. It was time to say goodbye to Kansas.