The Descent

Every summer my family goes to the mountains. Mostly this is for my husband. I am more of a beach girl, but I’ve learned to love my week in comfy sweatshirts and majestic views. My kids all want to do different things. My son is an expert fly fisherman, my daughter likes to hit the trail with a horse or a jeep (and always likes a trip into town), but I mostly just want to hike and read books. I lace up my hiking boots each day and try to convince someone to hit a hiking trail with me because I am too afraid of bears to go adventuring on my own. There are a few things I’ve learned over the years: pack more water than you think you need, invest in quality boots and socks and you can never have too many snacks or pockets.

Yesterday we hiked to a waterfall. It was an ambitious hike, but worth it. One person in our group turned around halfway. The air was thin and the grade was steep but the promise of a waterfall kept most of us trekking. The view at the end did not disappoint but by the time we made it back to the car my heels hurt and my knees creaked. This morning I woke up and suggested a shorter hike before my kids woke up. I refilled my water bottle, but I didn’t add any new snacks and I left the hiking poles at the house. This was more like a morning walk. Until it wasn’t. My husband checked the map and mentioned a trail going to the summit view, and that was it for me. Say the word summit and I start climbing. My morning walk became a serious hike. I huffed and puffed and lost count of switchbacks. My face was red and my cheeks clammy, but the top was so close that I kept going. It was hard work, but I had a goal to focus on. I kept making slow progress and then stopping to make sure I could breathe and wasn’t having a heart attack. Eventually we had a view of the entire valley. It was beautiful and vast, but no waterfall. I found a leftover cutie at the bottom of my pack, snapped a few pictures and decided to head back down. What I had not counted on was the climb back down being so challenging. The grade had been steep and an the path loose. Nothing was firm beneath my feet. The hard part was over, but I found my descent to be even trickier to navigate than the climb.

My Autumn was a hard climb. Multiple things in my life were hard but I managed to keep climbing. Determined to make it through. It was hard. I knew it was hard. Even though I wasn’t climbing a literal mountain I wasn’t surprised by the physical and emotional toll. And I made it through all the things, with support of course. Snacks, rest and water go a long ways on a climb– figurative or metaphorical. And I also had family, friends and professionals to help me along the way. I didn’t feel bad or awkward about it. Shit was hard and I was glad to have all the help I could get. There was no summit view or waterfall. I did not take any selfies at the end of that season. I’m not even 100% sure I could tell you where it ended and the next one started, but it did. Right now, this season is easier. I’m on the descent. I want to breathe easier and move quickly back to normal. After a crisis ends, sometimes going back down is tricky in its own way.

On my way down this mountain this morning I had to take small cautious steps. I had to pay really close attention to what could hold and what couldn’t. I wished I had packed my poles so I could have something to lean on, even if it no longer looked like I needed it. My knees hurt and my feet dragged from the climb up, making little obstacles feel like big ones. Ones that I had not even noticed on the way up. I’ve seen this play out in real life too. When the hard part ends I can’t wait to get back to the way it was. Except I’m tired. I get frustrated with myself - with my ability to do the hard thing but struggle with the easy things. The ground sometimes doesn’t feel as stable as it did before. It helps to have something to push you on the way up, but equally as important to have something to lean on in the next season. I couldn’t feel my knees going up, I was too busy struggling to breathe. Now that the task in front of my was not so consuming, I could feel every ache. The easy season is hard because we think it will be easy. It is hard because we can feel the things we were too busy pushing through in the previous one.

This morning I was reminded to celebrate making it to my destination - maybe to a waterfall, or to a great view, or just through the other side of a really crappy thing. Making it to the top of a hard trail or a hard season isn’t the same as making it back to your car or whatever normal you want to return to. That is a completely different trip. And one that I always expect to be easier and faster than it really is. You don’t have to climb anymore, but sometimes it is still hard to descend without busting your rear. Sometimes your feelings catch up to you on the way down. Or maybe just your bad knees. Either way they did really good work. They both deserve a break and a snack.