FIRST IMPRESSION, YOU ONLY HAVE ONE CHANCE

image via leavenworth.org

My first impression on the Germanic Front Street of Leavenworth, Washington? I met a guy from Poland.

He said he was from Poland. I knew he was from somewhere else with his styling appearance.

He comes to Leavenworth every year so I asked him about the most authentic German food in town, expecting some central European insight.

Lucky me, right?

All he talked about was a Mexican restaurant and it’s fresh seafood. This goes against one of my food choices when I’m over a hundred miles away from the ocean: no ‘fresh’ seafood.

Which way to the schnitzel and spaetzle?

That’s what I was thinking while I watched a man chat up my wife at an outside table while I was inside.

“Hello,” he said. “I’m not hitting on your wife.”

Fair enough. In a married-once-for-thirty-one-years sort of way I was flattered he needed to announce his intentions when I walked up.

“Yeah, buddy, sure. That’s how I met her.”

Laughter all around, then they resumed. I listened. All the benefits you hear about being a good listener? All true.

J***, if you read this: Hello from the blogosphere and boomerpdx.

The man is walking, hiking, doing?, the Pacific Coast Trail. And looks it.

Rangy, strong, good shoes. And more polite than expected.

Bear with me a moment when I ask, “Who wouldn’t want to know more about the Pacific Coast Trail experience without dragging ass over it all?”

I did, so I asked.

In return he talked about the continuous effort of goal oriented hiking, the near-zen state of movement.

To show I knew the drill I threw out my 3:32 marathon time. I nodded. He nodded.

I didn’t mention my ill timed decision to replace my shoe insoles before the marathon.

No talk from me about my feet on fire for 26.2. It’s too personal, my one man Bataan.

To my surprise, my first impression of this hiker improved. He talked about hiking goals, time on the trail, and the breakdown.

No matter who you are, you’re unlikely to jump into new shoes and step off twenty miles a day.

If you can take it, your feet won’t.

“I saw another hiker with a blood blister on each foot.”

“One of those heel ones? Those hurt like hell.”

“And one each covering her soles. She was floating on blood with each step. It had to be layers deep.”

“Like a second degree burn?”

“Like you never want to get that far. Is it about distance, or time on the trail? Time on the trail is the right answer. Distance is just a number.”

“So you read Cheryl Strayed?”

“It’s just like she says.”

“As it should be.”

So of course I tried getting him jazzed up about taking notes and start building a platform for the story he writes in sweat.

Good advice? Looking at you.