What is it inside of us that drives us to leave behind comfort and certainty of beloved people and places to strike out into the unknown? What vestige of the primal urge to explore still clings to existence within our psyches, steering us constantly away from complacency?

I'm not trying to aggrandize the "adventure" level of what I'm going to try to do starting in a few days. No, I have no delusions about that. The vast majority of the Appalachian Trail falls within just a few short miles of civilization, a few hours or days walk away from parking lots and strip malls and traffic jams. Statistically, I am certain that every mile of the AT is safer than the miles of road we drive up and down to every day while going about our mundane business.

No, it is not some inherent risk that lends the Trail (and any expedition) its sense of adventure, it is the sheer difference in lifestyle that it promises. Many people I have talked about my plans with are surprised at the ambition of such a shift. They think it's bold or crazy to spend six months living in the woods. On the other hand, I put this trip into the same category of the many little adventures we embark on in our lives, from new jobs to new towns to new schools: it is a step out of the comfort zone.

This point resonated strongly with me tonight, as I said some very hard goodbyes to my best friend Jared and his family, a group of people that have been a surrogate family for me for over thirteen years. As anyone who knows Jared and I would expect, we did not celebrate the parting in anything but our traditional way: we sat around goofing off to Star Wars and a Red Sox game. As we split ways, I couldn't help but think of what I am going to miss this summer. Countless days spent in Tobin's pool, and evenings spent with good friends at Jared's house watching the Sox and discussing the magical annual politics of baseball with Mr. Stevenson and the guys. These are some of the most important and excellent people I know, and I can think of few ways I would rather spend a day.

Still, there is something uncanny and captivating about the allure of the Trail. Even as I regret missing out on any opportunity to spend time with my friends and family, I am overcome with excitement for the unknown and unexpected to come.

To this day, I cannot quite say why I am leaving all of this behind me to go on this kind of trip.

With any luck, I'll be able to answer that question soon