Looking back to January 2020 and through the last year, it’s been rough in turn, but with beautiful explosions of wild flowers from high vistas. I’ve felt the hike on last year’s trail in the souls of my feet, in the ache of the heavy pack I carried at times, and in my thirst parched throat when water was scarce. I started the year on a high, running both a 5k and a 10k in one weekend with speed I thought was behind me, but more importantly with two people I love and hold dear.
It made me realize that I’ve put up a green screen or really nice Zoom background in front of my daily life, blocking out what I didn’t want to see. But on I went, wearing more and more of that thick cushion off the bottom of my boots and patching the holes again and again. I don’t like negative progress on mountain trails and I sure don’t like it in my life, but I kept at it. I panted and felt the beat of my heart as it worked harder to help me pick up each foot and put it down again.
For days, sometimes, the trail leveled off with only a few rocks to climb over or some gravel to remove from my boots. Feeling a cool breeze whenever the path paralleled a creek or flowing river, but then suddenly facing a steep climb I knew I never make it up. Do I stop and turn back? Do I stop and stay on the rocky ledge? Or do I move on, up that steep slope until I hit the top and view of the whole world before me.
Isn’t this the kind of decision we all face?