Well, it’s been quite a while since I’ve written a blog post and I could blame it on a million things, but no matter how busy life gets, what’s important will always find its way to the top of the to-do list. So yes, this platform to share my stories and philosophies is important to me. Also, changing things up a bit, this post is much less a how-to-live-better and much more a small story of a small hike I went on earlier this year.
“You treat the body cruelly to remind it that the mind is in control.”
A beautiful and eloquent quote I cannot find the source of (or cited source of). It reminds me of every time I’ve pushed past my body and mind’s limits, from hiking Olamana’s Three Peaks in sandals and half a water bottle, or Kings Peak after springing both ankles a few months prior, or climbing Queens Bluff when my arms and legs shook uncontrollably from the danger, or camping alone and banged up in the deep woods of northern Alabama. Each time, my mind was in control even though my body was strained. I focused and re-focused on what steps ensured survival. The mind has a ridiculous amount of power over the body, we are reminded of this every 4 years during the Olympics or on any given outdoor channel. So if I could give any encouragement in this post it would be to never forget the power of your mind. Train it to your betterment, and use it to your advantage.
It is early January as I hike up and up along the steep and dry face of Mt. Olympus in Salt Lake’s mountainous backyard, pushing higher and higher above the inversion, I turn around to see…
Bated breath escapes my lungs as I stand and soak in the appalling and mesmerizing view, a flat lake of dense pollution and cold, trapped air floating above Salt Lake Valley.
I can hear the momentous traffic below, a steady hum like an AC running in the background of a summer home. It is loud enough to drown out the thoughts bubbling in the mind yet soft enough to drown out the exhaustion in the body.
Leaving the hum behind, I continue up the rocky trail, around the corner of the canyon, the sun inching out of a thing cloud above. Turning left into a dark caress of the canyon covered by trees on either side, I reach a section of the trail covered with packed snow and pause to catch my breath again.
A few fellow enthusiasts greet me while sliding down with crampons and much more sense than I. A mental note is taken to get some crampons or spikes when I next see fit to.
While continuing up the trail into steeper ground and fewer trees, I begin to realize the sun is getting cautiously low, hovering just above the mountains in the distance, and I get cautiously close to turning around, without the proper gear and light to push my will much further.
Though this is an interesting reflection. My will was waning, but my body was content with going further. Previously, logic would have lost to determination, yet as I age so does my determination, becoming less childlike and more deliberate.
And so, it doesn’t take long for my logical voice to win as I pause to take a sip of water, sit down on the blanketed trail, and then cautiously begin my descent back down, darkness slowly closing in…
And here is another question. What about darkness besides the lack of light is to be feared and cautious of? Sure, there are lower temperatures and night-time creatures to not forget, however, the cold is tempered by warmer clothing and a quicker pace, and to the hidden creatures, we are just another strange predator, but unequivocally not preferred prey.
Thank you for reading my story and random thinking. Given that hard things only become harder when we recognize them as being “hard” in the first place, I will make writing an easy task. In reality, when I just sit to write, I enjoy it very, very much and it’s not laborious at all, the trick is to just sit to write.
See ya’ll in less than a week!
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