Thirty-One Days Until Fifty-Five
Life is like an uphill hike.
After my training session with my son where I ran two miles without stopping, my body ached. So for the last two days, I put a pin in the running and I went on an hour-long hike. I wore a hat and hiking boots and set a slow pace so my groin and calves and thighs would not burn so badly.
As I walked, partially pulled by my sweet Huskey-Shepherd, I thought about how life is like an uphill hike. Sometimes it’s hot and my groin burns and sometimes every moment feels so slow, like it’s dripping by, and I stare at my watch and wonder, when will this part be over? Sometimes the scenery is blue streaked with pink and everything twinkles and I thank god for the sky and the view and the trees and the gophers popping their little brown heads out of holes as I move forward, whole and healed and with feet firmly on the earth. And, sometimes, I feel like it takes all I have not to tumble backward, fall into the dust, and stay down waiting for the paramedics to show up or else an angel from heaven.
Life is like an uphill hike because it makes me sweat. It makes me thirsty. It makes me wish I could have my dog with me from beginning to end. It forces me to pay attention to loose stones and risky steps that could cause me to flail or fall or fly forward.
Life is like an uphill hike because it makes me tired. It energizes me. I see friends and wave. I get hungry. I have to go to the bathroom. There is dog poop to pick up. My mind wanders. I need a hat. I want someone to talk to. My feet hurt. Life is like an uphill hike because it is hard.
I notice other hikers on the trail. Some look stronger or younger or older or appear to be struggling more or less or are gorgeous or are stopped staring out at the view. Some wear shorts or sports bras without shirts or full army fatigues or have backpacks or water bottles or three dogs on leashes. I keep passing them and then falling behind and then passing them again and then I lose track of them until I see everyone and their dogs again at the end of the trail. See the metaphors?
In thirty-one days, I will be fifty-five. I do not expect to live to be one hundred and ten so the first half is behind me. When I am hiking uphill and the first half is behind me, I am glad. I look forward to the rest because that first half is the hardest. I have to push and propel myself forward and muster the energy to get going. As I get past that first half, I get my grove and see the gophers and my feet find their rhythm and I get lost in the movement. It feels easy. I feel easy knowing I made it past the first half.
Like is like an uphill hike because I feel easy knowing I made it past the first half.
After hiking today, I came home, had a glass of wine, soaked in the hottub, and made turkey meatballs and parpardella for dinner. After an uphill hike, it is good to soak and rest and drink wine and eat pasta with your family. These are good things to do in life, too: soak, eat, drink, rest. Then get up the next morning and hit the trail all over again. It’s easy after you make it past the first half.
