Mountains are meant to be climbed

It's been looming in the distance since the day we moved here. All 14,000 + feet of it just begging me, taunting me, relentlessly reminding me of my addiction to heights.

Pike's Peak.

It had to be done...

because I can...

this is what I do....

because it's there...

...whatever the reason, we finally did it.

Phil and I celebrated 15 years of ups and downs, rocky roads and amazing vistas, winding meandering paths and and straight up sheer climbs. We're far from being done, but climbing Pikes peak seems like the perfect way to celebrate it all.

We stated out early in the morning only to find out we weren't alone. The one weekend we had available to hike a mountain just happen to be the same weekend as the Pike's Peak Assent. We had about an hour head start on the race, and it took about one more for the racers to catch us. From then on, we spent a romantic anniversary with 2,000 of our closest running friends. It was fun cheering for everyone, and it was nice to know we were still on the right trail especially at the top where it gets kind of sketchy.

I've always thought mountains are built into my DNA somehow. The closest I've ever felt to depression was when I lived in SC without a mountain in sight. I can't describe how it felt the first time we drove up through the mountains after we moved here. It was like I could finally take a deep breath again after being suffocated for 3 years. I thought this was all mental until we got up to about 10,000 feet and Phil started to get a little light headed, while I caught my second wind. If it's possible to go down hill when your heading up a steep mountain, Phil did.

When you get to the tree line there are only/still three miles to go. After hiking ten, another three didn't seem like much....

right?

It was so amazing and beautiful. Climbing up above everything changes your physical perspective, obviously, but I always get a kick out out how it adjusts my spiritual perspective also. Without a doubt, mountains are meant to be climbed.

Sure enough those last three miles were tough. It was steep, a lot was sandy gravel that had us slipping back precious inches with each step. Oh yeah, and then there was the lack of oxygen...that added a whole new level of difficulty. I think Phil would have been content to sit down by the side of the trail for a few hours, but I, being the yin to his yang, had the crazy urgency to get to the top, and since he was about to lose consciousness and I was still of sound mind, we continued to the top.

I jest, but in truthfulness, we were both pretty exhausted when we got to the top so we hopped a bus and rode down the other side on beautiful paved roads. Made me wonder if the view from the top is as amazing if you don't have to work to get there. My instinct is to say no; to really appreciate the top you have to leave a little of yourself on the trail. On the other hand, I sure appreciated the bottom of the mountain even though we took the easy way down.

Why I Hike

This summer I had the opportunity to go hiking with the Activity Day girls. Thirteen girls ages 8-11, all giggly and happy with the unknown just up ahead. We started with a prayer and as we all gathered close one of the girls who had been on many hikes with her family, had some advice to offer.

"When it starts to get hard, just say over and over in your head, 'I can do hard things' and it will keep you going.

Then she added,

"I know I can do hard things because I have done them before."

She's ten and had just taught the #1 lesson of the day.

The first hour went pretty good with a lot of chatter, laughter and small detours up rocks and down to the stream. After that there began to be a distinct separation between those who wanted to make it to the end and those that did not. So we split up, I went on ahead and the other leader stayed behind.

It wasn't a really hard hike, but many of these girls had never done anything like this before and it required a lot of determination, and they were definitely determined to make it to the end. I say end, because the hike ended at an old sawmill, not the top of the mountain. When we finally got there all the girls were excited and climbing around taking silly pictures of each other....except for one. She looked disappointed...even angry. Turns out the end wasn't all she expected; where were the grand vistas???  All she could see was a pile of junk.

She's ten and taught me lesson #2: If it's all about where you're going you miss the beauty of the hike.

We headed back down and all of a sudden these girls who were about to collapse from exhaustion on the way up were running down the trail.

Lesson #3: Exhaustion is 87% mental.

Before long the 13% that wasn't mental caught up to them and they stopped to soak their feet in a pool. At first I protested since we were already two hours behind schedule.....

but the pool was perfect and they so deserved it. I gave them five minutes. They talked and laughed about the hike and how hard it was and the whole experience changed from something horribly hard to something they wanted to do again.

Lesson #4: Time to reflect can clarify perspective.

I keep thinking about this hike and these beautiful girls, and the lessons that were laid out so plainly. The last month has been a tough one with everything I had neatly planned out....OK, those who know me know "neatly" is probably an exaggeration...but yes, I have plans...and they have been turned completely inside out.

I didn't plan on working just yet, especially a job that is part time but requires full time hours. I didn't plan on my house being this messy, ever. I didn't plan on being stretched so thin I'm invisible. I didn't plan on teaching life skills instead of math. I didn't plan on hating it and loving it at the same time.

It sounds simplistic, but I can't say how often I have repeated to myself that I can do hard things. That this moment right now is what deserves my attention. That I'm not really exhausted, just because my head spins if I move to quickly. And, that if I don't take time daily to ponder and clarify, my perspective is horrible.

Go ahead, say it with me...

I can do hard things.

I can do hard things.

I can do hard things.