I’ve come to a big fat conclusion.
“What would that be, Donna?” I sorta, kinda, no, not really, heard you asking.
It’s OK that hiking mountain trails isn’t my cuppa joe anymore. I’ve kvetched about my mammoth doofus-osity before. What’s different now?
I’m now, after my rib cracking trike spill, extra special aware. I need to keep my eyes down — watch where I put each foot. I gotta remember that my balance is 99 kinds of illin’ yak crap. A walking stick is all fine and good but it’s not a free pass to leave off the close attention to the path under my dancing feetsies. A pikestaff isn’t a Get Out Of Jail card so’s I can mindlessly, goggle and gaze at all the beauty around me.
Mindfulness — get some!
Attentiveness on a rough trail ramble ends up being a LOT of work without the big payoff. Yes, I get solid exercise but is that the whole point of a scramble through the woods? Not for me, no.
I want the damn beauty, the scents of the forest, the play of the sunlight as it trickles through the leaves. When hiking with Jenny in Arizona, I want to stare at and study all the wild cacti I pass. I want to SEE everything.
My friends Lydia and Steve have a home near New Paltz, New York. On one of my visits they took me to a wooded, park area for a pulchritude filled, fresh air excursion. There were rock climbing folk all about. A ton of them. The place was lousy with cliff clingers. I worried bigly that the trail would be too hard for me.
Nope, no worries. It was actually a paved path that led to a castle-like mansion of sorts. Dunno what that joint was all about but there were tons of families picnicking around the grounds. So then, easy peasy but now I was a little insulted. “I’m not some 90 year old invalid, I could do a regular, real hike!” I raged to myself.
Yes, I could BUT it’d be all work and little joy. Instead, I had a lovely time, enjoying the scenery, staring at all the folks practicing their grips on the wee crags along the route.
Where does this leave me?
In late October Jen and I will jet out to Arizona for a few days with Jenny. Undoubtedly, we’ll want to take a stroll through the wild, alien, western beauty. We’ll be in the Sedona area. I guess I’ll want to research the hell out of any potential trek to make sure that I can have fun versus an arduous struggle.
Does the path need to be as easy as the one Lydia and Steve took me on? No but I need to prepare and accept that, if it’s a rough trail, I won’t see much until the end point when we’re sitting and chilling.
Meh.
I need to find a way to wallow in the gorgeousness of nature without tumbling ass over tit on every third step.
Maybe I could get my trike kitted out with extra fat tires? Mountain triking! How ‘bout an Imperial Walker? A palanquin, perhaps?
OH yes, I believe we’ve found a winnah!
“What would that be, Donna?” I sorta, kinda, no, not really, heard you asking.
It’s OK that hiking mountain trails isn’t my cuppa joe anymore. I’ve kvetched about my mammoth doofus-osity before. What’s different now?
I’m now, after my rib cracking trike spill, extra special aware. I need to keep my eyes down — watch where I put each foot. I gotta remember that my balance is 99 kinds of illin’ yak crap. A walking stick is all fine and good but it’s not a free pass to leave off the close attention to the path under my dancing feetsies. A pikestaff isn’t a Get Out Of Jail card so’s I can mindlessly, goggle and gaze at all the beauty around me.
Mindfulness — get some!
Attentiveness on a rough trail ramble ends up being a LOT of work without the big payoff. Yes, I get solid exercise but is that the whole point of a scramble through the woods? Not for me, no.
I want the damn beauty, the scents of the forest, the play of the sunlight as it trickles through the leaves. When hiking with Jenny in Arizona, I want to stare at and study all the wild cacti I pass. I want to SEE everything.
My friends Lydia and Steve have a home near New Paltz, New York. On one of my visits they took me to a wooded, park area for a pulchritude filled, fresh air excursion. There were rock climbing folk all about. A ton of them. The place was lousy with cliff clingers. I worried bigly that the trail would be too hard for me.
Nope, no worries. It was actually a paved path that led to a castle-like mansion of sorts. Dunno what that joint was all about but there were tons of families picnicking around the grounds. So then, easy peasy but now I was a little insulted. “I’m not some 90 year old invalid, I could do a regular, real hike!” I raged to myself.
Yes, I could BUT it’d be all work and little joy. Instead, I had a lovely time, enjoying the scenery, staring at all the folks practicing their grips on the wee crags along the route.
Where does this leave me?
In late October Jen and I will jet out to Arizona for a few days with Jenny. Undoubtedly, we’ll want to take a stroll through the wild, alien, western beauty. We’ll be in the Sedona area. I guess I’ll want to research the hell out of any potential trek to make sure that I can have fun versus an arduous struggle.
Does the path need to be as easy as the one Lydia and Steve took me on? No but I need to prepare and accept that, if it’s a rough trail, I won’t see much until the end point when we’re sitting and chilling.
Meh.
I need to find a way to wallow in the gorgeousness of nature without tumbling ass over tit on every third step.
Maybe I could get my trike kitted out with extra fat tires? Mountain triking! How ‘bout an Imperial Walker? A palanquin, perhaps?
OH yes, I believe we’ve found a winnah!
Mountain trike --- I like that :-)
ReplyDeleteme too though my neurologists were DEF not keen on the concept to the point of vetoing :-(
DeleteI think you're missing an 'h' in that doctored illustration of the palanquin, since I'm sure you order it by the barrelful ;-)
ReplyDeleteSo cruel! Ok, maybe true but CRUEL!
Delete