Happy Anniversary X 4

On April 11, 2020, we took our first hike up a nearby logging road. In the midst of the early days of the pandemic, we needed exercise that didn’t require a gym or Peloton, and, we needed fresh air. That 1.7 mile trek, with a 1000’ of elevation gain, checked all of the boxes.

At first, it was simply a way to stay healthy and strong, and we made a commitment to do it whether we felt like it or not.

At first, it was just a logging road, used by county utility workers, ranchers on the look out for free range cattle, hunters, and us.

At first, it was just something we did because we’d decided to do it.

Today, April 11, 2024, four years to the day since that first trip up, and with over 350 trips behind us, the logging road has shown herself to be holy ground, quietly supporting us as we make our way up and back, up and back, up and back. The trees—fir, pine, oak—the wildlife—deer, elk, turkeys, jays, squirrels, hares, coyotes, raptors, bears—all remind us that we are never alone, but surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses.

Four years later, we wouldn’t miss it. That road has kept her promise to help us stay healthy and strong.

Four years later, hers is a sacred path we are privileged to walk.

Four years later, we do it because we can’t imagine not.

April 11, 2020

April 10, 2024

From The Logging Road: Lessons #5

We had a wicked wind storm a week ago, bringing with it all of the usual things. Detours due to downed trees, power outages, and flags, furniture, and fallen branches strewn hither and yon.

This morning was our first foray up the logging road since the storm, and rounding an early bend in the road, a downed pine tree blocked our way.

We had four options. Turn back, climb over, crawl under, or go around. All were viable possibilities.

Turning back didn’t even enter our minds. Arriving at the top, and the hike to get there have become a sacred practice. An intentional habit that anchors our week, fortifies our bodies, and fills our souls. Climbing over was doable, but not necessary, as was crawling under. So around we went. After a short scramble we were quickly on our way again , footsteps falling together on the trail.

Obstacles are inevitable.

The trick is to know what to do with them when they fall across our path.

From The Logging Road: Lesson #4

Ever since the pandemic hit, we have been hiking what we’ve come to affectionately call “our” logging road a couple of times a week. From our car to the summit is 1.7 miles straight up hill, with an elevation gain of just under 1000’.

This morning it was a beautiful winter day. Blue sky, white snow, and bright sun cresting the nearby hills. Typically we head up the road and don’t stop until we reach the summit. Stopping to rest feels like cheating. For the first mile we were able to walk in the large tire tracks, probably left by a local hunter. It was easy going with Yaktrax on our boots to keep us from slipping, our pace steady and strong.

Then the truck tracks ended.

It was no longer easy going. Doable, but harder, requiring more effort with every step. We shortened our stride, lifting our feet high to clear the few inches of snow on the road. Hearts pounding, breathing faster, stopping no longer felt like cheating.

And so we stopped.

Several times before reaching the summit.

While the logging road is a kick-ass workout, she is also wise teacher.

Changing conditions require adjustments.

Sometimes It's A Real Slog

Heading uphill yesterday at the beginning of what we’ve come to call “our” logging road, it was hard from the get-go. We have been hiking this same 1.7 miles straight uphill since March, and it’s never been piece-of-cake easy. Which is a good thing because that means we are continuing to increase our stamina and strength, so that we can keep going strong for as long as possible.

But yesterday, it was rough. There was snow on the road making it harder to get a good purchase. I could feel myself start to panic a little, and for the first time I actually wondered if I could make it to the top. Focusing on how hard it was, I lost sight of the fact that I could stop if I needed to. And when ready, keep going.

This is really hard. I said to my husband.

We stopped so that I could catch my breath. Gradually calm replaced panic, and we set off again, this time at a slightly slower but still steady pace, our footsteps falling together on the road. It was still hard, but somehow the hard wasn’t as hard, when I remembered that we simply needed to keep going. And if we did, we would make it to the top.

This is a real slog today, Tom said. (Thank God! It wasn’t just me.)

We broke out of the trees just as the sun was cresting the top of the ridge across the valley. The brilliant blue sky, white snow, and dark green trees all added up to a spectacular morning. And if we hadn’t kept going, if we had stopped because it was hard, we would have missed it.

Two deer appeared on the hillside, and then two more, all of them slowly climbing the steep, snow covered slope. Disappearing behind some trees, and then appearing again, it was like a game of hide-and-seek. One minute they were there, and then they were gone. And if we hadn’t kept going, if we had stopped because it was hard, we would have missed it.

This feels a lot like life right now, I said.

This year has been nothing if not an uphill grind. A grind that’s likely to continue for some time to come, and It will be hard. Somedays it will be a real slog. There will be days when we might panic a little, not sure if we can make it. We will need to stop and catch our breath so that we can remember that we simply need to keep going. And if we do, we will make it to the top, even catching glimpses of beauty along the way.

It never got easy yesterday. But the view from the top was worth every step. And if we hadn’t kept going, if we had stopped because it was hard, we would have missed it.

Stop and catch your breath when you need to, and then, keep going.