I have sat down several times over the course of the last
few days with every intention of pounding out a post about The Extra Mile hike
that I did this past Saturday. Every single time I try, I come up short because
I just can’t find the right words. But, I want to get it out there before I get
to far away from the experience to remember the details.
So I’m just going to start writing. We’ll see where we end up.
I drove down to Bethel Mennonite Camp the night before the hike. The plan was to start on Saturday morning at 7:15 and I didn’t really want to drive from my house that early in the morning. I found it extremely hard to sleep that night. Nerves were getting the better of me. I tossed and turned and tried to get comfortable, but nothing worked really well. So in the dark, I busted out some yoga. I stretched and breathed and held poses and tried to clear my mind. I prayed and talked and recited every shred of scripture that I could remember. Around midnight I climbed back into my bed and drifted into a barely asleep sleep.
6:15 am came too quickly. I brushed my teeth, dressed, and did a quick devotional . Then down to breakfast.
7:15 am. Nine hikers loaded into a van and I was immediately intimidated. I was surrounded by seasoned hikers and young kids. At the drop off, my stomach immediately started churning and negative thoughts started seeping in my carefully crafted positive barrier. We set off and I was quickly at the back of the pack. I repeated over and over the words my dad said to me the day before: ‘this is your hike. Don’t try to keep up with everyone else. Do it the way you have trained to do it.’ So I did. But that still didn’t mean that I was happy about it. Not going to lie. The first 3.5 miles of that hike were pretty miserable. I felt out of place and like I had bitten off WAY more than I could chew. Actually, I had bitten off more than I could chew, but I didn’t stop.
The ten mile hikers joined us at the end of the first 3. 5 miles. This is when my Aunt Rosie joined us. This is when my spirits lifted and my confidence came back. Her smiling face and her confidence in me put the spring back in my step. I was still slow and still the last one in the pack, but at least I had her with me. We finished 6.5 miles and then were bussed back to camp for lunch.
Lunch was sandwiches. I kept it pretty light. I don’t like to have lots on my stomach when I’m exercising. So I ate one slice of bread with turkey and cheese and a few salt and black pepper chips. And water. Lots and lots of water.
So I’m just going to start writing. We’ll see where we end up.
I drove down to Bethel Mennonite Camp the night before the hike. The plan was to start on Saturday morning at 7:15 and I didn’t really want to drive from my house that early in the morning. I found it extremely hard to sleep that night. Nerves were getting the better of me. I tossed and turned and tried to get comfortable, but nothing worked really well. So in the dark, I busted out some yoga. I stretched and breathed and held poses and tried to clear my mind. I prayed and talked and recited every shred of scripture that I could remember. Around midnight I climbed back into my bed and drifted into a barely asleep sleep.
6:15 am came too quickly. I brushed my teeth, dressed, and did a quick devotional . Then down to breakfast.
7:15 am. Nine hikers loaded into a van and I was immediately intimidated. I was surrounded by seasoned hikers and young kids. At the drop off, my stomach immediately started churning and negative thoughts started seeping in my carefully crafted positive barrier. We set off and I was quickly at the back of the pack. I repeated over and over the words my dad said to me the day before: ‘this is your hike. Don’t try to keep up with everyone else. Do it the way you have trained to do it.’ So I did. But that still didn’t mean that I was happy about it. Not going to lie. The first 3.5 miles of that hike were pretty miserable. I felt out of place and like I had bitten off WAY more than I could chew. Actually, I had bitten off more than I could chew, but I didn’t stop.
The ten mile hikers joined us at the end of the first 3. 5 miles. This is when my Aunt Rosie joined us. This is when my spirits lifted and my confidence came back. Her smiling face and her confidence in me put the spring back in my step. I was still slow and still the last one in the pack, but at least I had her with me. We finished 6.5 miles and then were bussed back to camp for lunch.
Lunch was sandwiches. I kept it pretty light. I don’t like to have lots on my stomach when I’m exercising. So I ate one slice of bread with turkey and cheese and a few salt and black pepper chips. And water. Lots and lots of water.
I knew what was coming. The middle of the hike was going
to be my hardest part. I had always known this. This was the hike that I HATED
as a child and as a staff member at camp. We were hiking to the fire tower in
the Robinson Forest. To any of you that have hiked that trail, you know how
hard it is. For those of you who haven’t…well, basically it’s a mile. Straight
up a hill. And I’m not just talking about a sloping little hill here. I’m
talking a big, stupid hill. Again, Aunt Rosie stuck with me. It was on this
trail that I actually lost faith in myself. I was convinced that I couldn’t do it. We stopped for a bit and I had an
internal argument with myself. Every doubt was fighting to take over. Every
negative thought was surfacing. If it hadn’t been for a group of friends that I
knew were waiting to hear the victory story, I would have quit. We kept at it
and finally made it to the top where everyone else was already waiting.
The downhills and the flat spots where the best parts. I caught up with friends and chatted and laughed and had a grand time.
The last 4 miles were the hardest, and longest
of the entire hike. And it was all on flat, paved ground. I was tired. Every
part of my body hurt. I could feel blisters. I was wet (did I mention that it
rained off and on all day?). I wanted to be done. Aunt Rosie was done, but my
Uncle Phil plodded along beside me. We talked to keep my mind off the fact that
I was so tired that I could barely move. The downhills and the flat spots where the best parts. I caught up with friends and chatted and laughed and had a grand time.
Uncle Phil and I were the last ones. We didn’t finish with the rest of the group and the only one cheering us on at the end was Aunt Rosie who had come to pick us up. When I saw the van, I almost burst into tears. I didn’t feel like I expected to feel. I expected to be overcome with some kind of ‘I did it’ emotion. But the reality is, I was just glad to be done. I was glad to sit down in the van and lean my head back.
When we got back to camp, there was cheering for me. There were hugs. And I smiled and felt proud. I changed into some dry clothes and we waited for supper. Which included the best meal ever of fried fish, grilled chicken, pasta salad, rolls, and cake. Seriously. BEST MEAL EVER.
Kind of anti-climactic, huh? It kind of was. Ha!
Then I got home and the enormity of it all hit me like a ton of bricks. This whole day wasn’t about hiking 15 miles. I mean, it was. BUT it was more about setting a goal, working for it, and accomplishing it. I set a goal to hike 15 miles. I trained for it. I worked hard for it. I doubted myself. I was confident in myself. I’m pretty sure that I felt every emotion in the entire span of human emotions during the course of the 24 hours of October 11, 2014. I will never forget those 24 hours either. In that time span, I proved to myself that I can do what I put my mind to. I can succeed in this thing. I also learned that 31 is the perfect time to pick up a new hobby.
And I did it.
Because I can.
