The Climb: or Tales of the Weakest Link

This morning, the idea of taking a scenic chair-lift ride up the side of the mountain to gather with others and share stories seemed like such a beautifully simple thing to do. So, at 9 AM my girls and I hopped aboard the Silver Queen in Crested Butte Mountain, CO, for a ride up to our short hike. The gathering spot for our meeting was incredible: multiple shades of the greenest greens splayed over the awe-inspiring purples, grays, and reds of the Rockies all around us. And there was no cloud to be seen — just a cobalt blue sky. And the serene silence of the Aspen colonies… Well. I just can’t even.

It’s truly bizarre to be in a place so beautiful. Everywhere I look is a post card, waiting to be shot and mass distributed. Sometimes it doesn’t even seem real.

Our mountainside meeting was lovely and special, especially since it spontaneously became a tribute to my late friend/best friend’s husband. He meant a lot to so many people here. So this space was sacred for him, my friend, and their network of support. Tears, laughter, and stories of strength and loss made our time together truly memorable. It’s not too difficult to find serenity in such a setting.

Sitting atop one of the boulders in the clearing, I took all of their stories in. I also admired the wild flowers peeking out from the rocks where others took their seats. Small, furry rabbit-like friends must not have thought us harmful, because they hopped in and out of those same rocks. Inspired by the environment, I began to feel like I could conquer the world and determined that I must make the rest of the hike, 1000+ feet more in elevation to see my very first mountain summit. Once obligatory pics were taken, I was stoked to hear that both girls I am traveling with were willing to make the climb as well.

I’m not sure if it’s because we were three women hiking alone, or if it’s because the two friends accompanying me look like the cast of Cougartown, but two men from our gathering eagerly joined our posse and lead us upwards, toward the summit. They were kind and helpful, but this proved awkward for me. In a moment, I had inadvertently transitioned from hiking with two patient friends, where my slowness and desperate gasping for breath could be endearing, to traveling with four active, outdoorsy types… two of whom were complete strangers. Sigh.

I cannot stand being the “bottle neck,” the person that slows down the progress of others. I’m used to being in control, the one in the lead, the person with the plan. The ONE THAT KEEPS THINGS MOVING, PEOPLE! My brain freezes under the pressure when I feel like others’ fun is ruined because of my lack of competence. Thank goodness they made me feel at ease, because the hike quickly became way too difficult for me to care at all what anyone thought. My heart beat raced, seemingly outside my chest most of the time. My arms burnt in the sun. And breathing anything other than short, quick breaths? Not happening.

There were definitely two distinct moments where I decided I was quite stupid for even attempting this whole endeavor.

Soon I was completely unable to appreciate any of the breath-taking views on all sides. All I could do was watch my feet, trying to determine whether the the next rock was stable or not and making sure I didn’t slide on the sand and topple down the craggy side of the mountain. This is such an unnatural head space for me, only knowing what is necessary for this moment. We had a goal, but as a newbie, I had no knowledge of anything other than “up.”

I’ve gone through other moments like this in life, where I was only allowed to know what I needed to know for the moment at hand. Didn’t like it then either. Who doesn’t feel safer knowing exactly what’s ahead and being able to clearly see the path? When we finally turned the corner that revealed the summit, I got a second wind. Crawling over giant, jutted rocks — climbing higher and higher. With the top in view, it didn’t even feel like work anymore.

The climb as a metaphor for our life’s journey is ubiquitous-it’s everywhere and overused. But I’ve never understood it for myself until today:

• The fear and lack of surety because of my physical weakness.
• The driving desire to make it to the top.
• The insecurities of being a weak team member.
• The emotional exuberance, of a job well done, together.
• The personal sense of accomplishment.
• Most of all, the perspective that can only be realized if you see the task through to completion.