June 24th 2017

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.

Crazy Peak showing her teeth.
Credit: Summit Post

So how did I get from there to finally standing on the summit of Lewis Peak fifteen years later? It has taken a lot of patience. For a time I didn't really climb mountains. That may have been more due to geographic limitations, but I think it was an important step in the process of trying to balance my life between the mountains, family, career, and spirituality. I'm not perfect in any of these areas, but I am more aware of it now, more mindful. As these thoughts swirl in my head I realize I need to be more mindful of the trail I am running down from the summit. The low, early morning sun is cutting through the trees leaving the trail in shadow but flashing my face with its bright light. I can follow the trail easy enough but cannot see any hazards that may be- MOOSE!!

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.

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.

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.

No one ever stops with their heart racing for a deer. Poor deer.

Promontory Mountains enjoying the early morning sun.