PART I
I can't touch my toes. Never have. In my elementary gym classes this meant that I wasn't "fit." I might have resented it a little at the time, but for the most part I have spent my life blissfully inflexible. As far as I could tell it had never inhibited me in any athletic endeavor, so I wrote it off as one of many quirks. But now I am trying to make good time up the trail to Lewis Peak (where else?), and I'm a little bothered by it. Not that this particular excursion requires toe touching, but now my understanding of fitness has evolved, and that new understanding requires touching my toes.
I am starting this hiking season in the best shape I have
been in years. For five months I have been exercising five times a week, and
given my flirtations with it last summer it has included a fair bit of running.
But much more than that. The program I've been following was designed with a holistic
approach to be able to do the activities we love, not just look good. This requires
making time for endurance, strength, balance, power, agility, speed, and of
course flexibility. On the other end of it I can see how balancing all these
elements can be key to an active and healthy life. But balancing all these
elements is tricky. Any particular focus or favoritism of one will be at the
sacrifice of another. I would love to just start running up the steep switchbacks
at the start of the trail to Lewis Peak, to really earn my trail running badge,
but I know that quest for speed will leave me panting by the same tree I
collapsed under on my first attempt with no endurance left. I walk purposefully
up the steep hills, knowing I can run when we level out on the ridge. Similarly,
I purposefully woke up at 0500 to do this hike before the day started for the
rest of my family. To enjoy all the beauty that life has to offer, we must
strive for balance.
I don't want to lose the thread of the hike though, as it
was quite enjoyable. I did run when I could, but I am far from being a trail
runner. For one thing, I am wearing a pack, pants (ain't nobody got time for
itchy legs), and using hiking poles. I have my knee brace on to be safe,
although it has not been needed in all the miles I have been running the last
few months. That knee brace is a legacy from the first intervention by a higher
power to help me gain balance in my life. Shortly after my mission I made my
first attempt at Crazy Peak. I probably thought about Crazy Peak on my mission
as much as I thought about my girlfriend (so, like, almost never). I won't get
into the tale of Crazy Peak now, but no other mountain has required so much
from me. At the end of that first failed attempt I sat in my backyard looking
at the mountains I loved. My knee hurt so bad. I could barely walk by the time
I gotten to the trailhead. This was all new, my knee had never hurt before in
my life. I rubbed my knee and thought to myself "What would I do if I
couldn't climb mountains?" Immediately the answer whispered in my
ear "You will be responsible." That was a lot to unpack in my head,
but I knew it was true.
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| Crazy Peak showing her teeth. Credit: Summit Post |
Two moose startle in the bushes about ten feet in front of
me. One goes up the ridge a short distance, the other heads down the trail. I
brace for a charge and quickly access my options for evasive maneuvers. The
moose on the ridge, now about fifteen feet away holds its ground, which is good
so I can get out my camera and get pictures in case I do get charged. No
charge, so I figure we have an understanding and I can move on. I proceed down
the trail slowly with my poles in the air and camera ready as I now have to
contend with the other moose. We proceed tit for tat down the trail twenty to
thirty feet at a time, while I am also scanning my rear in case the other moose
gets upset with our game. After several minutes some hikers approach from the
other direction and force the moose up the ridge and off the trail.
Mindfulness. Balance. Breath. Run.
PART II
I should be clear. I climbed many mountains after that first
revelation of where a responsible life should lead. While it may have stifled
any wishful thinking of a life as a professional mountaineer, and thus miss out
on dying young, I was still all but consumed by the mountains. Just like the
trail off Lewis Peak I charged recklessly for two more years through the
mountains, blind to much that was around me. I was happy, but I was not
balanced. When a pedestal gets that high, it must fall. And fall I did. A hike
that I refer to as my mountain marathon would be notable for just the
mountaineering achievement that it was, but its real importance was the way it
changed my relationship with the mountains.
This was not a planned hike. On this day the only thing I
had scheduled was a date in the evening. Not just any dinner and a movie date,
but a girl who held my affections had asked me out on a printed invitation,
multiple couple, multiple destination date extravaganza. That's cool, but might
as well get a good hike in beforehand, right? So when I woke in the morning
(not as early as I do now) I checked out Topozone and Hyalite Ridge catches my
eye. It seems ambitious, but so am I. The plan is to cover over twenty miles and
at least five ranked summits over 10k feet. Mount Blackmore and Elephant Mountain,
then the ridge to Mount Bole. I execute it beautifully, tackling class V
terrain like I'm strolling (quickly) down the sidewalk. I now read that a
similar feat was first done in 1943 over three days, yet I planned for under
seven hours. Backtracking is for wimps so I bail off the ridge to exit via
Hyalite canyon. This is where it gets not so beautiful. My bushwhack off the
ridge gets cliffed out and I have to go up canyon to find a viable route down.
This is not planned on. The bushwhacking is brutal. I lose my sunglasses. I
sense my schedule slipping. I fight my way to the trail and stop to refuel
and check the time- I have half an hour and at least three miles to the
trailhead, but then my car is at a different trailhead, about ten more miles
away. The world dropped out from under me. I sank down and I knew -without any
voices from heaven- that if I missed that date this magnificent achievement
would not be worth it.
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| Ridge from Elephant Mountain to Mount Bole. I never turned to left or the right, but stayed true throughout the traverse. Credit: Summit Post |
And so I ran. As I approach the trailhead I see a car
leaving; I shout and wave my arms around but they are gone. There are no other
cars in the parking lot. My gut drops even further and, almost frantic now, I
keep running. Several miles later I finally come across a car which I convince/commandeer
to give me a ride back to my car. I was late, but I made my date. The next day
I was making another doomed attempt on Crazy Peak (where else?) with a buddy. I
sat on the side of the trail and I knew things weren’t the same. They would
never be the same. Rome had fallen.
The trick of all this is that true balance is a false idea.
There is no way to keep all aspects of your life in perfect balance, as that
would require you to do everything simultaneously, and as a result poorly. We
must make decisions in our life as to what things are important, and then be
really present and mindful when we do them. We have to be willing to set other
things, no matter how important, aside to keep ourselves balanced. My family
was in a wonderful place in Maryland. We had a great ward and I had the best
job available to humankind. But there were no mountains. There was no extended
family. In an effort to bring better balance in our family we decided to move.
Not that my ward and work are no longer important, but I now balance them with
other important things.
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| Mount Ogden with a tempting ridge approach. and deer. |
As these ideas are still solidifying in my mind I go for a
run Monday morning. I planned on doing a shorter loop through North Ogden, but
I ended up going down the wrong trail and accidentally ran over nine miles.
This made me late to work, however that wrong trail led me up Coldwater Canyon which was the most peaceful, meditative experience of my whole week. So balance
is a slippery idea that I still have much to work on. That and flexibility, because
dang it, I still can’t touch my toes.
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| No one ever stops with their heart racing for a deer. Poor deer. |
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| Promontory Mountains enjoying the early morning sun. |
