I'm Major Jackson, and this is The Slowdown.

My grandfather used to tell me all the time, you love making things difficult for yourself.

These words came back to me once, as I stood surveying the surrounding forest, somehow

off my hiking path, and I realized lost.

I was trying to make my way back to the trailhead before nightfall.

I had come to sunset ledge too late in the day, with no flashlight.

My cell phone had no charge.

It was Robert Frost who said, the woods are lovely, dark, and deep.

Well, not so lovely when you've lost your way.

My heart was trying to win some race.

The minutes were passing.

Nothing looked familiar.

Hadn't I just passed this clearing, towering pines and maples, at which only an hour ago,

I had gazed in amazement, faded into thick patches of amorphous silhouettes.

I had read stories about people who airingly veered and went missing for days.

Some were rescued, others wandered and tragically met their fate.

Why hadn't I let anyone know?

It was early April when the night temperatures could easily drop below freezing.

I feared wildlife.

I feared another step in the wrong direction would take me further afield, deeper into

a darkness from which I would never emerge.

This was in the initial seismic weeks of separation from my first wife that eventually led to

...