I woke up at Lost Mountain Shelter and heard a few people moving about-- impossible for a few folks not to be up earlier than me seeing as there were at least 20+ at the shelter that night (some even tented in proximity of the privy). I checked my phone, which I had begun to keep on airplane mode while I wasn't using it and saw it was merely 7:30. I realized I was waking up more and more often with the sunrise, it was a beautiful feeling.
I got out of my tent and realized it was a little difficult to get my stakes out of the ground, my foot was just tender when I reached down to pull out the stakes and I wanted something to stabilize myself. I took it without much caution though seeing as I'd have two trekking poles to support me most of the day anyways. I was the first person to actually leave the shelter, even after a small snack, it takes me less than 10 minutes to get up and gone in the morning and there are few that I found on the trail that could match me for my ease of leaving in the mornings. I found myself going SLOW though and I couldn't place why-- my body was just telling me to go slow in some way and my cadence was gentle and soft as I plodded along. The day started out decent but after a mere mile, the up began. I started out the day at roughly 3400 feet and would be reaching 5200 in a mere 6 miles-- NOT an easy climb as there wasn't a moment's break to it. Even though I was going so languid (and clearing more spiderwebs than a broom) I didn't break and nobody passed me all morning.
As per usual with mornings, I had to take a shit. Thankfully, this occurs when I'm past a shelter in the morning and somewhere off to myself but it also sucks because you never know if someone will come up on you and also, the feeling you need to go comes up on you FAST. I felt ok and then suddenly realized all of the trees were gone, I was going onto a bald. I slinked back to tree cover and roamed around to find a spot to go at and quickly found a snake laying out on the grass. I was about 4 feet away when I just turned around, without the slightest bit of fear and found a spot 6 feet on to go instead. That left me with about 10 feet distance from the snake, which I figured was ample enough. I shit and the snake stayed still and then I was off-- it was a very casual meeting.
I climbed up the bald and soon found it was getting dark and cloudy-- whitetop mountain loomed before me and after I reached a rock face and pulled out my guide, deciding it would be a good place to breakfast, I realized I was at Buzzard Rock.
As I was finishing up my lunch and gently tapping my foot with my fingers, I found a particular area on the top of my foot that hurt and I soon realized that my foot also hurt when I pulled back on the toe right next to my big toe. It wasn't excruciating pain but it was surely noticeable. I sighed and decided it would be fine, just take it slow and easy and rest is all...
I saw my first person of the day behind me, they took a break at the same spot I was at and I could see them for a long time before I disappeared into the clouds.
The road at the top of Whitetop Mountain was neat but I decided against taking it or the sidetrail-- perhaps if my foot had felt better I would have but I just wasn't in the mood.
I filled up at the stream and really started to slow down, my foot was just beginning to hurt even more and I decided I should ease back even further-- star taking breaks every half hour or so, be positive it was ok is all.
I hit VA 600 right before Elk Gardens and sat down for another break, it hadn't been more than three miles and I wound up resting longer than my breakfast break. A lot of people had recently passed me up and decided to take their break at the road as well. 15 minutes went by and Fozzie, Sam and Phil soon reached me and I took 30 more minutes to sit with them and left once Sam and Phil got up. I told Fozzie about my foot pain and he told me it was probably just a strain, much better if I get some rest and that it probably wasn't a stress fracture, I told him I was worried it would be one though, I hadn't had such pain before. He reassured me and that was all I needed... my pace was fucking terrible as I tried getting along after the bench though and Fozzie soon passed me up and it began to rain. He took out his umbrella and sauntered ahead but we talked briefly-- I mentioned how much I wanted to take the side trail to get up to Mount Rogers (the highest point in Virginia) but my foot ached and he told me it was "just another hill" as to say it probably wasn't worth it. I told him I'd inevitably make it to the shelter we had decided on (Wise shelter at the exact 500 mile point) but it would take some time. Fozzie mentioned some calf pain and then told me again "just another hill Peej, I'll see you on ahead." I watched him walk off and I again admired his one-trekking pole and umbrella method for walking in the rain. Before long he was out of sight. It was the last time on-trail that I saw him.
I made it the small distance to Deep Gap and started to cry, I don't know what was wrong with me but I needed something to motivate me to keep going because the pain came to be with every single step. I sat on a rock between rainstorms and ate an entire packet of trolli brightcrawlers and talked to a pair of section hikers that came by. They were kind enough to ignore my tears, I wouldn't have wanted to talk about it and I decided I'd just press on to the next shelter and sleep there instead of pressing on to Wise Shelter. The climb up sucked-- Brier Ridge and side trail to Mt. Rogers passed by slowly and walking over the rocks and around the piles of horse shit made it terrible. I hit Thomas Knob Shelter where plenty of people were already inside-- I worried for a moment if there would be space for me as it started to downpour and I climbed into the top loft (my foot hurt on every step and it hurt badly) and saw Sam and Phil. We lounged about until the rain stopped and they were soon on their way saying they might make it to Wise shelter or simly sleep at the next campsite less than a mile on. I told them my goodbyes and Sam told me he really deeply hoped my foot would get better. I smiled and it gave me a little hope but not much, I knew something was definitely wrong with my foot.
Honeybadger soon came in and took the spot next to me-- two guys in the top bunks were talking with us and we soon made a little group-- I didn't catch their names at first so we didn't personally discuss much that night but they wound up having the trail names of Chef and Ranger Bill (both I had seen in the trail register-- Ranger Bill had done the first 490 miles of the trail with a single roll of toilet paper). I talked about my foot for a while and took their advice on what to do and how to rest it-- a couple who had done the trail as section hikers and that were now doing it as thru hikers interjected that I might have plantar fasciitis and I retorted that it definitely wasn't that as the pain was localized over the ball of my foot. The gentlemen took some offense to me putting off his diagnosis and took on ignoring me for the rest of the day-- I don't mean to be snood or act as though I know more than him about feet but I definitely know more than the average joe and I know enough about plantar fasciitis to know it was not what I had. I flexed my foot and felt the pain and realized it was only with certain movements, likewise if I rolled my ankle in a circle it would hurt at a certain point and it was definitely a more intense pain than what I had been experiencing less than a few hours ago. With all of my stuff set up to sleep, I decided to just lay very still, take some ibuprofen and let mother nature work her course. I had faith that things would be ok-- afterall, it couldn't be that serious, right?
Sleep came quickly, rest... not so much. It just wasn't the most comfortable night and a nagging worry in the back of my mind pulled at me and made me want to panic. I felt desolate, even with people around because my phone wasn't working-- I would get one bar and no texts or calls would go through... it started to rain very hard and get very foggy and without tree cover, the droplets thundered the roof and siding something awful. I wanted to curl up in a ball and wait it out and with all of the gloom, especially once night set in, I took comfort in the cold and dampness that was Thomas Knob shelter. I soon found myself comfortable enough to let go and wait. Again, it couldn't be so terrible. Wait and hope..... this too shall pass...
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