The Difference in 2 Miles
Some people do cold water plunges, some go into darkness for days. Me, I go on walks with a 50 pound toddler on my back, pushing a 9 month old in a stroller, with 2 fast paced dogs on a leash.
Our first real hike, on a real mountain, in North Carolina showed me something about myself that I had no idea I had. It was our first trip to Asheville, the place we would soon decide would be our new home. We wanted to go on a real hike, on a real mountain. Paul and I don’t tend to shy away from hard things so of course we would be carrying our two small children with us. Sydney was almost 9 months old weighing in a steep 14 pounds. Lincoln, almost 3, carried himself with a stocky 45 pounds.
We got the right gear, became bonafide members of REI Co-Op. We soon were confronted with a pissed off, tired, toddler coming in to his realization that he can make his decisions about things. Today, he decided he wanted mom to carry him on the hike. We tried for about 20 minutes to change his mind, barley getting him into the carrier at all. But, like most moms, I sighed. “Okay Lincoln. Let’s go”. I hurled him onto my back and away we went. Descending a few thousand feet, finally greeted by a breathtaking waterfall.
By this point we were halfway through the hike, about 45 minutes in. Lincoln required we stop to admire every cool rock, stream, moss, or possible bear marking, breathing out his little wide voiced “wooooow” each time.
Now, Lincoln wanted out of the pack. We sat on a rock, climbing near to the middle of the river, just watching and listening to such an amazing natural creation.
Soon it was time to get on with the remainder of our hike and the determined toddler wanted to walk himself. I hardly say no to him, calling myself the biggest pushover he will ever see. A sweet older stopped us before we left though. They could probably smell the near gear we had just popped the tags off in the parking lot.
“Have you ever hiked this trails before” the man asked as we were loading up to go.
“We have not”, Paul and I both answered in unison.
“Okay. Well just to give you a heads up, the next part is hardest piece of the trail. It’s about 1/3 of a mile straight up hill. You might take it slowly with those kiddos you’ve got there.”
“Oh wow. Okay, thank you so much for letting us know” I said.
With Lincoln leading the way, we went up that mountain. The man said hill but that darn thing was a mountain!
Only falling 2 times, and letting me stop to nurse Sydney, Lincoln charged up that mountain with incredible confidence and sensibility. To say we were impressed is an understatement. I was flabbergasted.
I could tell he was getting really tired though, whining and fussing at every rock and root that he must cross. With much deliberation, I finally convinced him to get back into the carrier, and we were set. Only a little farther left.
“Oh, we must be at the end.” I think Paul and I both said that maybe 50 times on that last half of the trail. We kept thinking at the top of this crest, or around this bend, hearing people talking, it must mean we are close.
Only when we made it back to the beginning of the loop did we see the trail head marker. “0.7 miles to parking. 2.0 mile loop. STRENUOUS.”
Strenuous?! I thought the trail app said “Moderate”?!
By this point we are dog tired; my legs feel like jelly, my chest is tight, and my glasses are slipping off with each bead of sweat headed down my nose. But then a sweet breeze passes around me and I am reinvigorated.
“Let’s go again” I say only half kidding.
We finally make it to the car and breathe some fresh air. Thankful it’s over, we share a snack.
Lincoln is on the verge of an epic meltdown so we hurry to get everyone in the car and barrel down the mountain in search of a good cold beer.
The rest of that day I can’t help but think about how hard that hike was, and yet, I want to do it again and again. It reminds me of childbirth. Just when you think you can’t go any further, you are done and it’s all over.
No matter what hard thing stands in my way, physically, spiritually, or otherwise, I know that I have the power to move forward. And the only way to feel that confidence is to keep doing hard things.
So, you may see a crazy lady walking on the side of the road with a wiggling toddler on her back, a crying infant in a stroller, and 2 uncooperative dogs pulling her three different ways. When you pass her, smile, send her a wave, and send her some positive vibes. It seems calm now but she will need to harness this confidence and calmness when everything goes to shit and the kids scream at her for hours straight.
LOVE, LIVV
