Tinkerings

I went hiking yesterday.  I don’t hike.  But yesterday, with the invitation of a good friend from Florida, I wound up driving 90 minutes to Pigeon Forge, TN, and taking a 6 hour hike over a total of 8 grueling miles.  I really didn’t think that much about it…until about hour 4.  That was when I started to hit “the wall.”  It was really only through shear determination (and the refusal to be the only one in our group to say, “I don’t want to walk anymore”) that I made it back to the car.

The walk was beautiful.  And hard.  I got to see some gorgeous mountains to the right and left of me as I trekked up the hill.  None of us really knew what the trail was like since we had never been there before.  Oh sure, one of us had looked at it on a map, but that really didn’t do it justice.  Each of us had a pre-conceived idea of the hike ahead and each of us, it turned out, were wrong.

You see, I thought starting at out 5,050 feet was pretty high.  I sort of envisioned a trail meandering around the tip of the mountain tops with a few uphill and a few downhill slopes.  I thought the entire trail would be like the beginning: flat and wide with steps braced by fallen logs.  Someone had gone to great lengths to make the beginning of my journey as easy as possible.

As we went along the trail, rising to over 6,100 feet, the trail began to change.  Suddenly it was more wild with rocks and water and foliage hanging over the sides.  It was more narrow and much more difficult to maneuver.  I had strategically placed myself 3rd in a line of 3.  At first that was so I didn’t have to set the pace.  But later I realized it was better to follow someone along the trail and watch how they proceed.  I could see steps that were difficult and make minor changes in direction from the leader so that my walk was somehow easier than his.

When we hit 6,100 feet we thought we were fairly near our goal, which was a large outcrop of rock on the knob of a mountain top called Charlie’s Bunion.  We were wrong.  We began a fairly fast descent back down to 5,500 feet over another 1.5 miles.  I realized that going downhill so fast was just as difficult as the climb, but for different reasons.  On the climb my legs were tired from stepping up and up and up.  My calves and quads were feeling the burn.  On the downward slope my legs felt better, but not my feet and knees hurt.  The angle of the slope made my feet slide into the front end of the inside of my tennis shoes.  My toes were hurting and that caused my entire foot to ache.  The change in the angle of my ankles caused extra pressure on my knees.  I was reminded of a talk I had with a runner a week earlier and how people who train for marathons find that training to run downhill is just as important and training to climb hills.  More injuries occur on the downward slopes where we think the hike or run is easier.  In reality, it is equally hard to climb the hill as it is to go down the hill.  But hard in different ways.

We enjoyed Charlie’s Bunion for about 30 minutes.  The views were spectacular.  We met a few other hikers there.  Everyone was resting and eating something.  It was a welcome break.

Most people on this trail never make it to Charlie’s Bunion.  For many it wasn’t their goal in the first place.  They walk in enough to get some beautiful views and walk back out again.  How did I know this?  Because the last mile toward our destination was the roughest, most underused portion of the trail.  It was very narrow and wet and covered over with brush.  I suddenly began quoting “The Road Less Traveled” in my head.  Going all the way to this small bald rock really was making all the difference for me.

Then it was time for the return.

The 2nd half of a long hike can be brutal.  Your body is already tired.  Your muscles are calling you a wimp.  And you know they are right.  And then it hit us.  That fast downward slope that felt so good on some of our leg muscles had just done an about face and was now the steepest part of the mountain to climb.  Our tired legs, breathless lungs, and weary minds stopped often. Yet on we trudged.  This was no place to stop and quit.

After reaching the 6,100 feet level again, we started the 2.5 mile decline into hell.  One thing I learned about hiking started to really become a concrete reality in my head: Take care of your feet.  My feet hurt.  And now my toes were forced back into the front of my shoes.  My knees hated every time we met a stair step that had to be traversed in reverse.

It was on this leg of the journey that I hit “the wall.”  I realized then and there that most of my life can be summed up as a quitter.  If I hit the wall on a treadmill, I just hit stop and go do something else.  I even joked that it might be worth it to fall down and break my leg and just wait to get airlifted to a hospital.  But I kept most of my thoughts of quitting to myself.  I wondered if I was the only one feeling this way.

It was about 1.5 miles away from our car that I realized part of my problem.  I had established the wrong goal from the beginning.  My goal was to get to Charlie’s Bunion.  In reality, my goal should have been to get back to the car.  This became crystal clear as a young man in his early twenties came running down the trail behind us.  Yes, I said running.  He was skipping from rock to rock and jumping over things that jutted out in his way.  We gladly stopped to let him by, but he stopped for a minute with us and asked if any of us had a map of the trail.  You see, he knew there was one particular trail that went off from ours, but he couldn’t remember the name of it.  He wanted to add about 5 miles to his hike that day, and thought that would be a good plan.  Luckily, he wasn’t standing close enough to me to deck him.  But then, I was probably too tired to take the swing anyway.

I love metaphors.  And this hike has given me many to ponder.  Here are a few:

• Make sure you are headed toward the right goal in life.  If you are, the entire journey will be enjoyable.  If not, the journey will hurt every step of the way.
• There is no map that can accurately prepare you for the journey.  Watch those in front of you.  Do what works.  Change what doesn’t.
• Hike your own Hike.  OK, this is not original to me.  One of the guys we met that has hiked for 25 years gave us this quote.  He meant every hiker should wear what they want, hike where they want, carry what they want, and don’t be conformed to what they think a hiker should do.  I translate to be “Live your own life and not someone else’s.”
• It really is all about your mindset.  Your mind is more powerful than your body.  It can sit your body down, or it can pick your body up.  Be determined.  Don’t quit.  Its just pain.
• Travel with a buddy or two.  The Bible makes this point in a couple of ways.  First, if one falls down and he has a partner there is someone to help pick him back up (words of wisdom on a long hike).  Second, anyone can break a cord of just one string.  Some can even break a cord of 2 strings.  But a cord made out of 3 strings is not easily broken.  We all agreed that if we had been alone, we would have turned around before we got to Charlie’s Bunion.
• When you think the journey is over…its not.  Charlie’s Bunion wasn’t the end.  Even making it back to the car wasn’t the end.  I’ve still got more journey today.

What about you?  Do you have a metaphor you would like to share?  Or is there a life lesson from this post that you found and I didn’t mention?  Leave me and the rest of the world a comment!