Do you really want to know where I was April 29th?

Written By Timothy Lackey

Let me set the scene: it’s a gray, damp morning in Pennsylvania.
The forest is still half-asleep, dripping with last night’s rain.
I’m out there, solo, prepping for the wild mushroom foraging certification I’ve got this coming weekend — because why not take your dreams literally into the woods?

Long story short: I got ambitious.
Longer story shorter: I sprained my ankle.
Yes, really.
Yes, while foraging.
Yes, days before I’m supposed to prove I know what I’m doing in front of real professionals.

How It Happened

I spotted a patch of what I thought might be young Dryad’s Saddle just beyond a slope. Nothing crazy — just a short climb down a wet log.
You already know how this ends.

One slip.
One awkward angle.
One very unpleasant crunch.

It wasn’t dramatic enough for an ambulance (thankfully), but let’s just say I limped out of that forest questioning everything — my balance, my boot choice, and my life decisions.

But Here's the Thing

This is part of the journey.

Learning how to forage — really forage — isn’t just about memorizing mushroom species.
It’s about understanding terrain, weather, your own limits, and how to respectfully get back up when nature knocks you on your ass.

I’m still going to that certification course.
I’ll probably still be limping.
But I’ll also be showing up with a fresh reminder that the woods don’t care about your schedule — and that’s kind of the magic of it all.

What I Learned (Besides Not to Trust Mossy Logs)

  • Bring trekking poles. You’re not too cool for stability.

  • Wet bark = betrayal.

  • Foraging is about observation, not urgency.

  • And most importantly: tell the story, even when it’s a little embarrassing.

Final Thought

So yeah — ask me where I was on April 29th.
I’ll tell you: I was face-first in the mud, learning the hard way why this certification matters.

Painful? A little.
Embarrassing? Definitely.
Worth it? Every step (even the bad one).

Follow along as I limp my way toward certification, launch this business, and make every questionable step count.
(And hey — if you’ve got any sprained-ankle-foraging hacks, hit me up.)

Timothy Lackey