My first attempt to thru was in 2000. I ended up going home, from Fontana, with very sore knees and a bad stress fracture. I started another attempt in 2001. This time I felt that I already had one strike against me. The fact that I was 66 years old didn't help either. It put a lot of doubt in my nind about making it to Maine.
The point, in my thru, when I felt that I could make it all the way was when I walked through the sign going into the park in Damaskas. It just hit me. I feel good, I could walk the daily required miles and best of all I was enjoying it.
Previous to this time, when someone asked me , "are you a thru-hiker", I would reply. "No." I'm just heading north. After that I started to say I was.