Having just pontificated that the things I had wanted to do when I was young were stopped by lack of resources and knowledge, I couldn't just sit back. I had an inner canyon hike scheduled for Sunday, and I needed to know if I could still make it (103° temps are sooooo not fun.)
My concern was malaise & fatigue, of course.
The only way to find out, was to get out there.
At the trailhead to #33, I hesitated a fraction of a second. It was the steep side's turn, and the test of the air monster lay in those switchbacks. Heading left, I silently cursed to myself. I needed to know-could I do this hike without stopping, and no breathlessness? I was breathless just getting out if the vehicle, for goodness sake!
Slowly I started up the path, checking my posture, foot placement. My heart rate quickened, and I became conscious of every beat. Did I have the stamina to do this, or did the fever set me back?
One step.
One more step.
I shortened my natural gait, and imagined walking a tightrope. I corrected my posture, shoulders back, dropped, and engaging my lats.
My God. This place is beautiful.
All around me, the new, tiny spring green leaves popped from their branches. A plethora of green overran the trail, in the many shades new growth brings. Aware of every breath, and keenly aware of every step, I slowly continued up. The landscape unfolded around me as I emerged above the forest canopy; Granite Mountain rose prominently in the distance. Ever conscious that I could be gripped in a second by the air monster, I carefully controlled my speed. Slow and steady wins the race, does it not?
Three people passed me, I did not care. I wasn't 40 paces behind. This was between me and the air monster: the only thing that could prevent an inner canyon hike on Sunday. I needed the knowledge of my capabilities, could I do it or not?
Nearing the top, I once again felt cruise control kick in, surprisingly at the same point as before my illness. Picking up speed, I rounded the corner and saw my favorite bench...and marched right past it. There was no need to rest. I wasn't struggling to breath.
EIGHT weeks. It had taken EIGHT full weeks to hike up the steep side of Thumb Butte without breathlessness or stopping.
I'm obsessed with the number eight, just FYI. I was born on 8/8 (at quarter til 8) and 8 days after my 8th birthday, my little sister was born. I'm 8 years, 8 days, 8 hours and 48 minutes older than her.
Eight weeks.
So, I essentially skipped, hopped and fenced down the other side; my trusty hiking stick becoming my foil. Totally not a workout, and totally why I don't typically go this way.
I had my answer: I controlled the air monster.
With that new found knowledge, I jumped in the vehicle and punched up directions for Fitness for $10 on Ranch Rd, ready to attend yoga with the divine Katy Kolasa. It showed it 28 minutes away, and class started in 24 minutes.
Thumb Butte is a little out of the way.
Katy greeted me at the door, as I arrived with a minute to spare (I had somehow hit all green lights on Gurley Street through downtown. God does exist and He loves me.). Rolling out my mat, I glanced around the room. It was brightly lit from the natural daylight streaming through the windows, and had a larger ratio of senior citizens (something I LOVE about yoga-all ages can practise.) As I sat waiting for class to begin, I reflected on my hike. My head had been up, on the steep side of the Butte. I hadn't stopped, and I could breathe. Goal achieved.
Centering myself, I looked at my hands in my table position. I twisted them before going up into downward dog (it's soooo much easier with knowledge!) Weeks ago, I struggled with this elementary position, and now found it routine. Throughout the stretches I listened to my muscles, and appreciated again the subtleties of yoga. No, I couldn't do all the positions. Some I rocked (my chair position...I'm a boss) and some sucked (anything with balance or flexibility! Lol!). I loved being free to make the experience mine-to meet my needs of the moment.
Inwardly, my thoughts drifted through the ups and downs of the past eight weeks. Alone on the mountain, my fighting spirit was flexing its muscles for the first time in a long while; it had gone into hiding seven years ago. While it now has to contend with a still healing brain, I was delighted to know it had shaken off its slumber. Here on my mat, with my head pressed to the earth in my child's pose, I caught a glimpse of my long buried heart.
My quest for fitness doesn't end on one goal achieved (I still need to do a push up!) but it seems a new chapter is opening. Fitness is being healthy both physically and mentally; I am continually amazed how the two are interlinked. No, I still don't like exercise (please note, I have never classified hiking as exercise). It's still a struggle to get motivated, even though I love the results. As the journey continues, I am challenged more and more...on things I never expected to be challenged on. My discoveries surprise me, disappoint me, madden me, delight me.
Is that what a quest is all about?
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