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My feet throb. My husband and I are walking from the top of New Zealand to the bottom and I’m complaining on day two. The first 60 miles of New Zealand’s trail follows “Ninety Mile Beach.” Who doesn’t love beach walking? Me. When I think of beaches, I think of coolers, sunbathing and sandcastles. There’s sand and sun, but the rest? Nope. This beach is rugged. I white knuckle my trekking poles against the relentless headwind, biting back tears. As the sun burns through my sunscreen and discomfort radiates from my feet, I remind myself this was my dream vacation. *************************** On day five, we enter the forest. It envelops mystery, with its canopy of lime-colored mosses and ferns, but this is where New Zealand gnashes its teeth. This track seems like someone’s bad idea of an obstacle course. It appears someone dumped buckets of mud, hiding thick tree roots. There’s an incredible amount of overgrowth to claw through on the steep trail. Overall, we’re giving an elephant’s effort at a snail’s pace. I remind myself to have bite-size goals on this 2,000-mile trek. *********************** Things fall together for me on day 22. The blisters on my feet callous over and I start to grow my trail legs. With 20% of the trail complete, I embrace the natural rhythm of wake, hike, eat, sleep. ******************* Day 48 is our best day so far. It’s the day we weave through three active volcanoes. The nearby smoldering vents still seep plumes of gas. We pass signs warning us not to linger too long in the active zone enjoying the expansive views. The track is a major upgrade from our experience thus far in New Zealand. It’s manicured and well-trodden. Near the top at 6,000 feet, everything becomes electric. Four turquoise and emerald crater lakes tinted by thermal minerals offer bursts of color among a darkened earth. ******************* On day 70, we finish the North Island. Our South Island trail notes are riddled with warnings. My favorite reads, “there’s a river crossing above a 12-foot waterfall. The water is flowing fast down the chute. If you lose footing, you go over the waterfall.” The next 25 days is all about battling the muscular currents and hypothermia-inducing temperatures of river crossings. There is one day I count crossing water 54 times! ******************* The trail continues to give us polar opposites, as we spend the next 100 miles walking gravel roads. We haven’t seen trees in two weeks. We find a single patch of shade and collapse into it. I munch on a protein bar and wish I had a frozen slushy to get rid of the cotton balls in my mouth. The air is so thick I’m chewing it. It’s our 100th day on the trail and I’m irritated. ******************* Our last nine days are tough. With fall coming and every step bringing us closer to the midway point between the South Pole and the Equator, our routine presents fewer precious daylight minutes. Back in the tangled forest for the last time, we duck to avoid wrist-thick branches acting as impalement tools and spider highways crisscrossing the path like fishing net. Above treeline, storm clouds drag anchors of rain. The wind flaps hard against my waterproofs as if I were skydiving. Club moss covers the trail and groundwater fills our boots, turning our feet into cement ice blocks. Wasn’t it just yesterday I was dying of heat? Yet, I’m oscillating between sad and relieved being so close to finishing. Pain has taken up residence in my whole body. I don’t want to eat oatmeal for breakfast every morning. I want my feet to be dry for more than three hours. I want my husband to stop looking like a grasshopper with a massive beard. Still, those periods of suffering punctuated by glee and the sense of accomplishment—it’s our kryptonite. Our proudest moments are the ones that broke us before building us up. And on Day 123, when we finished our human-powered exploration of New Zealand, we realized we may have been walking in search of the highs, but the lows made for some of the best stories.