I tossed off a tweet when I was making breakfast the other day:
Advice on leaving (your place of birth, social media platforms, etc.): Make sure you're running toward something, and not just away from something! ✨
What prompted it was I was cooking breakfast, and reflecting on my move from Atlanta to Los Angeles a few years ago, and then from Los Angeles to New York City. When I told my family about the first move, my dad was curious why, and shared something along those lines. He was nudging for details and trying to understand my mindset – was I hurting? Worn down? Desperate? Or alive, seeking, hopeful? It stuck with me. And luckily the second move was much higher on the "running toward" than the "running away" side of things. I was also thinking of a certain website that's been in the news lately for leaning into some of its worst qualities. I'm one of the lucky people with a small, friendly following that generally has a great experience. I see many people who seem increasingly frazzled and broken by theirs, though. I don't feel it directly, but I can understand it. It's valid, as all emotions are. I think the part of the advice above that I love the most is the attitude it implies – positive, constructive, optimistic. Reminds me in a slant way of the current tag line for Alan Jacobs' blog:
More lighting of candles, less cursing the darkness
I'd always want to leave with a promise of something better, not a curse on the past. I'm open to the idea that Mastodon or Post or Hive or whatever is a better Twitter than Twitter. And I hope if (when?) I leave I've got a good vision of what "better" looks like. Eventually every escape will come to rest, and when you look around, it helps to have some standards to measure by. Similar to Amy Poehler's perspective I shared a few years ago:
I see life as like being attacked by a bear. You can run, you can pretend to be dead, or you can make yourself bigger.
I don't want to wear out my shoes fooling myself. What will make me bigger? It may not be another app. I've got time to think it over. I hope you do, too.
Move the little bits around and glue it to other stuff. Does wonders for your brain.
On Memorial Day weekend I finished an urban walking trilogy. One morning in 2017 I set out to walk 19 miles from the heart of downtown out east to the top of Stone Mountain. I had toyed with the idea for a while, and figured one morning, what the heck. Why not? As soon as I finished, I thought about where else I might go. In 2018, it was 23 miles out northwest to Kennesaw Mountain's summit. This year, I did a little morning 13-miler down to the airport. Most of the time on these walks, it's not really enjoyable. The streets and highways aren't friendly for pedestrians. The sun bears down on you. Hard sidewalks (when they exist) make my feet hurt. I walk past industrial parks, encampments for those with no other place to sleep, empty lots, next to 4-lane highways, underneath interstate overpasses, past strip malls, past front porches. I feel kinda scummy and outcast, especially when just starting out. But eventually there's a sense of place I develop, connecting the pieces, filling in the gaps, that I don't get in other ways. And there's a satisfaction of looking back to where I came from, and knowing what's in between. Like most dumb 
Back in July 2017, I spent a couple weeks hiking 
Researching the trail was a bit challenging. While there was a lot of content on general trekking approaches, I didn't find a lot oriented toward the more ultralight/lightweight approach I prefer. There wasn't a ton of information in English, either. And because I do almost all of my hiking in the southern U.S., it was a little difficult to translate my own experience into what I would need to have a good time in a far different environment. So here I'll jot down the gear and resources I used, in hopes it will help the next person along. (I meant to write this sooner, but... 🤷♂️).
I hiked from July 3 to 17. It was a higher snow year (I am told), and my start date was a few weeks earlier than peak season begins. When I began there was still snow lingering on many portions of the trail. Snow crossings happened on most days, but none of it was particularly difficult. It was rare to see patches longer than 100 meters or so, none of it was very steeply sloped, and I had only a bit of post-holing here and there. There was quite a lot of water on the trail – creek crossings, snowmelt, boggy sections, etc., so keeping feet dry was just about impossible. 
Temperatures ranged from high 30s on the coldest mornings, in the 40s and 50s on most days, with sunnier ones briefly in the upper 70s or low 80s. I was lucky to only have heavy rain on a couple of days. Those were pretty miserable, and just about perfect for hypothermia. Just about every day had some strong winds at some point. Walking from the south to the north kept the prevailing winds at my back, and I'd highly recommend a northbound hike for just that reason. 
The hut system is very nice, and I took advantage of it here and there.. Most have bunks, gas stoves, etc.. The best part is many have little shops with enough food to buy for the next few days. There isn't a ton of variety, but if you're hiking at a fair pace, you don't really need to carry more than 2-3 days of food and a few bites to fill in the cracks. 
On to the gear.
I got a lot out of 
