I had many reasons not to.
I was exhausted. I had things to
do – mow the grass, edge, weed, remove bird poo from our porch and sidewalk
(bird’s nest – sheesh), shop for Mother’s Day, get kids to school, pick up kids
from school, haircuts, laundry…just to name several. Everything in my brain, and every ache on my
body was telling me not to. But, I did
it anyway. I took a hike.
One of my favorite spots to hike is up Pigeon Hill to the
top of Li’l Kennesaw Mountain, and that is where the story begins. It was a crisp spring morning, but just warm
enough to throw on some shorts. I began the steep climb up the hill, a rather
wide, gravelly jaunt in the shade just across Burnt Hickory Road. The first 50
yards were great, but I quickly began to feel the burn in my thighs and
heaviness in my lungs. I hadn’t even
been out there two minutes.
I had the picture of cannons in my mind…cannons that marked
the pinnacle of this particular journey. The ones located at the top of Li’l
Kennesaw Mountain. I looked up at the
incline ahead of me, and immediately I began to make concessions. “I’ll just go far enough where I can look out
and see the land below. I don’t have to
make it to the cannons.” The cannons seemed so far away.
After just five minutes, I was questioning my will to press
on. I had done this trail in the fall a
couple times, and I just didn’t recall it being so steep. Every ten paces or so, I would look up and
doubt myself. After what seemed like an eternity, I came to the end of the path
and began the arduous climb up the rock.
This is not like REAL rock climbing, but in the most literal sense, I
was climbing/walking up nothing but granite for several minutes. My feet
pounded. My heart did the very same. And, before long, I reached the top of
Pigeon Hill.
Shortly after reaching the top of Pigeon Hill, the path
transitioned from rock to soil/pine straw, and back to rock again. And, it narrowed considerably. As I pressed
onward and upward, I noticed patches of Poison Oak reaching in, trying its best
to nip at my ankles. I carefully placed each foot on the rocky path, carefully
avoiding the pesky leaves.
Before long, I was having difficulty putting much weight on
my left ankle. Any step down/in that
caused my toes to be higher than my heel resulted in extreme pain. So I began
to climb more gingerly, putting the bulk of the strain on my right foot and
ankle.
I realized that perhaps hiking today was not the wisest
choice I could have made. But, at this
point, I was a mile up the mountain. What choice did I have now?
I made the decision that the only way I could continue was
to keep my head down. Keeping my head down accomplished two things: first, it
was the only way to avoid injury, given the terrain; second, if I kept my head
down, I was less likely to be discouraged by what I saw ahead.
I began to focus almost exclusively on the music playing on
the iPod, developing a rhythm with my steps. I soon reached the lookout point,
and I knew I was fairly close to the top.
I pushed my body and my mind harder, inhaling deeper, more controlled
breaths with each pace along the path. As I neared my destination, my pace
quickened, and my spirit soared. I was
in the zone.
I made my way through a final rocky clearing, then around
one last bend…and there they were: the cannons.
Perhaps you are facing an uphill battle in your life. You have legitimate reasons for delaying the
journey. You ache, you are tired. Every
time you begin to face it, you are discouraged by what you see ahead. You have convinced yourself that you will
never get there. So, you
compromise. You feel like you are
pressed in. Obstacles are strewn about,
trying to trip you up, and cause your footing to slip. You feel alone.
But, there is hope.
You can keep the vision you have for your life in your mind. Play it over and over again. Don’t look up at the obstacles ahead. Keep your head down, and take it one step at
a time. It may require delicate steps
and careful planning, and some voices of encouragement to help you find your
rhythm. But, in the end, if you
persevere, there will be a clearing.
And, you will experience the exhilaration of knowing that the cannons
are just ahead.
