Colorado is known for many things.
The Denver Broncos have celebrated a Super Bowl championship not once but three times. Just six blocks from where I live downtown stands a lovely Victorian home on Pennsylvania Avenue that was once owned by the "Unsinkable" Molly Brown and where millions of tourists visit every year. (Thank heavens they took this story and made it a musical that my family quotes all.the.time.) Colorado is also home to the United States Air Force Academy.
But even more than football and fighter jets, it is known for
its Rocky Mountains. From its stunning peaks that touch the sky at 14,000 feet
to the waterfalls at Rocky Mountain National Park to the Aspen trees that line
Independence Pass in the fall. All set to the tune to John Denver and all are a sight to behold. Through the past year, I
have spent a lot of time in the mountains and I am always in awe at the beauty I take in but
also at the lessons learned while on the mountain trail.
A few weeks ago, I hiked St.
Mary’s Glacier with some fellow nature junkies. When we were climbing up the Glacier, we tried hard not to get in the way of the end-of-summer snowboarders. :)
Once we got to the top, we hit
some flat land where we could enjoy the view, have a sandwich and gear up for
our next climb- James Peak. Summit elevation 13,301 feet. My lungs had a hard time
with the elevation and I found myself not moving as fast as the group and I
began to wonder if I should just stop and take in a view or keep going to reach
the top. I could see the peak just around the bend and pushed myself to the
next corner and thought, "Ah, it’s just right up there; I got this." Nope. The mountain teased
me only to bring into my view another peak to conquer. Some may call it a false summit. I call it "fake news." I could see a
line of ants on a trail waaaaay ahead of me only to see that I was STILL nowhere
near the summit.
My muscles ached. I was
tired. I had a hard time breathing. The trail was extremely steep and rocky.
I was seconds away of throwing my bag on the ground and saying, “I’ll
catch ya’ll on the flip side.” I was done. I didn’t care to move one more inch
forward. But…would I let the mountain defeat me?
To make a long story
short, I didn’t quit. I caught my breath for the 200th time and
continued to put one foot in front of the other. I had a friend who was hiking
behind me and told me (in some colorful language) to get up off the rock and keep
going. Albeit slow, I kept moving and was NOT going to stop until I had summited that darn mountain. And so I did. The panoramic view I saw once I
reached the top was worth it 110%.
Oh, nature. I respect you and fear you and I
need you for my soul to stay alive. You are a beautiful beast and you can
challenge me to my very core. You gave me sore muscles, blisters, but also some
much needed perspective.
And it is this:
In life, the trail we
traverse can flat out, no questions asked, KICK YOUR BUTT! There will
undoubtedly be times when quitting seems like a very tantalizing option. Our
muscles will ache and we will be moving along at a snails pace wondering if
what we’re doing is worth it. Staying where we are is the easy way but
progression will cease. We will never know what views lie ahead if we stop
moving. We will simply miss out. We never were promised an easy trail. It
will usually be rocky and often times inconvenient. Well, guess what buddy? The human spirit and body are stronger than we think they are. I say keep climbing. Keep
reaching. Don’t stop when you’re tired. Stop when you’ve reached the top, taken
a sip from your water bottle, looked around in absolute reverence and said, “Man, would you look
at that. It’s more beautiful than I could’ve ever imagined!”
As John Muir once said, I also say, "Climb the mountains and get their good tidings."
The End.
