This was my sixth go around hiking with 46Climbs. This time was different, though. I wasn’t sure I would hike at all, as I was recovering from a serious lower leg injury that could have meant a long hospital stay or worse. It didn’t, and I dragged myself up a little drumlin in New Hampshire, stopping a few hundred yards from the top to avoid a tight spruce blow-down.
On this hike several people asked about my shirt and I told them. Most said, “Oh that is a good cause.” Or something like that. Near the top, one hiker thought the shirt was a souvenir from completing my 46, until I explained. I’m not nearly focused enough to finish my 46.
I lost a cousin to suicide in January of 2001. We were close, and this hike is always partly for Danny. For me the loss faded and integrated, but it’s always there. Since then, I’ve met many people who talk about hurting themselves, joke about it, reflect about it, wonder if they can get out of wherever they are. I hope—each year when I do this hike–that we are not just hiking, but recognizing those who are struggling, pulling back some fear and if we impact one life for the better, that is enough.
When I began 46Climbs, I wanted to participate, but I was scared about how it would feel to openly and broadly discuss suicide, as well as mental health in general. After I signed up, the hike was okay, but I still wasn’t sure I wanted to tell people about it. There are folks close to me who I didn’t trust to understand…but then I began wondering how many lives would be saved, or changed, if we accepted mental health a little more than we seem to. I think I went rock climbing that year, and my photo was conveniently in shadow because I was in an oceanside ravine.
This year was different. I cried a little bit preparing to write this. And–I can’t remember how it occurred–but, after the Adirondack Trail Day I ran into someone connected to 46 climbs. I must have worn an old 46Climbs shirt for my run that day. We talked about 46Climbs, mental health, and acknowledged our shared experience as survivors. Those words might not have come when I began this. Thank you, 46Climbs!—Dave Brainard
