Life's Like a Hike...

Sunday afternoon I enjoyed hiking a trail nearby with the goal of finding the lookout point I'd been told about with a view of Lake Charlevoix (Boyne City, MI). It took a while, but I eventually found it and thoroughly enjoyed the fresh air and the view.

I thought since I had already been there once, today's hike would go even more quickly, and I'd be back at my computer working on the book within an hour.

After working with my self-compassion coach (COMPASSION FIX) regularly for four straight years with two-hour sessions at a minimum monthly, but sometimes more than that, one year ago in July, I thanked her profusely and celebrated the end of recurring appointments. I was confident I was armed with the knowledge and skills needed to forge ahead without as much support.

The hike Sunday was the first I'd been on since all the knee surgeries and rehab (back story is available Choose your hard... (gingerbliss.life)), so I was a little bit nervous given the uneven terrain. When I encountered the trail and saw it was completely covered with a thick layer of leaves, I realized I was in for more of a challenge than I had anticipated.

While I was excited to be trusting myself with what I had already learned to manage my brain and behavior, I quickly learned that it was fraught with unanticipated and sometimes new challenges I wasn't prepared for.

I got used to the sound of the thick leaves moving under my feet and it was pretty level ground at the start, so I gained confidence and picked up the pace significantly. Not too long after that, I unexpectedly tripped over some roots like what you see in the first two photos above although some were bigger and completely covered by leaves so each step was a surprise not knowing what I'd be hitting. The third photo shows tree branches that were often in the middle of the path. I would try to step over some of them thinking I had each step spaced correctly, but sometimes they ended up getting caught on my pants or I accidentally stepped on them and they flipped up and slapped me in the back or arm. I felt like a calf or foal just learning to walk. I'm certain if anyone had been watching, it would have been quite comical.

The confidence I had after "graduating" myself from self-compassion coaching quickly gave way to questioning myself about what I had done the first time I caught myself listening to those old voices in my head. I hadn't felt like exercising the night before, so I woke up on the wrong side of bed and the voices got loose before I realized it and tripped me up throughout the day with any imperfection they could find. Before I knew it, I was battered and bruised having beaten myself up in mind all day long and it was no laughing matter.

I approached a point in the trail where I saw there were two ways to go. Instead of having watched for an arrow along the path that I'd seen in a few places, I was too busy watching the ground, so I didn't get tripped up again. I decided to just go with my gut and selected the path to the left in the first photo. I followed that for as long as I could see a clear path and then just figured there must be more leaves that fell where it didn't appear the path continued, so I made a path of my own for a while. It got more difficult, though, so I eventually realized I must have gone the wrong way because this really seemed to be getting worse with no sign of a way out. So, I turned around and tried to retrace my steps to get back to the fork in the road. I eventually made it back and walked from the original way I came to see if there was a sign I missed. Indeed, there was, albeit a small one. It's fairly visible in the third photo, that is, if your head is up and you're looking for it. Lesson learned!

We are presented with many decision points every day. Often there are decisions that really don't matter much even if you choose the wrong one on any given day, like what to eat for a meal. There are other decisions that can have a high price tag, literally or figuratively, like buying a car or house, or deciding whether to have a child or surgery. Sometimes there are signs, again literal or figurative, that can lead us to making healthy decisions. If we aren't looking ahead with eyes wide open to see them, though, we can miss those signs and end up making a decision that leads us down a path that can be difficult to turn around from and find our way out of.

This photo truly is the path, I hadn't veered off on my own this time, I promise. Seeing this up ahead, I was starting to get frustrated. These tree limbs weren't there on Sunday when I took this path. "What the heck?" I said to myself. I maneuvered around them, but they slowed me down and were just plain irritating. When things had already gotten off to a rough start, I wondered why I had yet another obstacle in my way.

Sometimes it feels like when we get hit with hard times, it's not just with one thing, it's like they keep coming one after the other. When I initially met one of the kindest people I know, she was telling me about her family and shared she lost a daughter to cancer several years ago. It later came out that while her daughter was going through cancer treatments, her house burned down, she had to have a knee replacement and the implant ended up being recalled so she had to have another surgery to replace the replacement. There may have been more, but you get the idea. Talk about life kicking someone when they're down...that's beyond rough.

I kept moving ahead and then encountered the path being roped off with a blank sign and I said to myself, "Uh-oh, I bet I was just in an area I'm not supposed to be in." And sure enough, when I got to the other side of the rope, that's exactly what had happened. I can say for sure I didn't walk through any rope to get on that path, but I cannot guarantee I didn't create my own path to get where I wasn't supposed to be. Instead of wasting any more time, I just kept going and pretty soon I reached a familiar point which felt particularly good and while it's a pretty steep hill, I saw the sunlight shining through the trees and it inspired me to forge ahead.

As someone who has been scared most of my life, I've had to work hard on identifying and then communicating my needs and wants. Once I wasn't seeing my coach on a regular basis, there were times when I was with someone I cared for and instead of speaking up about what was best for me, I veered off my path going wherever that person led. It was like the sign was turned the wrong way and since I didn't see it soon enough, I forgot to uphold a boundary.

Shortly after I reached the top of that hill I got to a point where there is a paved road that I knew would easily lead me back to the house where I'm staying. For a split second, I thought it's been sort of challenging today. Having taken off my pullover because I was hot and sweaty, I knew I had gotten in some good exercise, so maybe I should just head back on the smooth road where I wouldn't have any potential of getting lost again. I looked at the trail ahead, though, and could see it flattened out and would be a pretty smooth, wide path for a while, so I figured that would give me a break and surely, I could still find my way to the lookout point and see the lake.

When we've been tackling a lot of challenges and maybe even when we feel like we are failing, it can be tempting to give up or take the easy route instead of staying on a hard course. Even when in the midst of hard times and it doesn't feel like it, history shows us the path will eventually flatten out and widen. And it's important to remember it's ok to slow down or stop and rest, too. Sure, maybe we'll get passed by or maybe we'll lose sight of who or what is up ahead, but growth happens when we keep trudging along and don't give up.

I got to a point where the only choice I had was moving from the yellow, moderately challenging trail to the red, challenging trail. I wanted to reach the goal of seeing the lake, so I decided to continue and before long I could see a pretty clear trail but, on each side, there were drop offs and then I got to a part I remembered from Sunday where it was a steep decline with some slick muddy points that were hidden under a thin layer of leaves. I remembered it was steep enough that it felt a little out of control and like it would be very easy to fall. I moved as slowly and carefully as I could, not wanting to injure my knee in any way.

The day before, I wrote this about high school cross country, "And I figured out after a few races that I could pass competitors going uphill which from the looks on their faces and sounds they would make, seemed like it surprised and discouraged them. Sure, it was hard physically, but running uphill was more about mental toughness so I used that to my advantage." So, as I approached this part of the trail, I remembered how frustrating it was to me that I could pass runners going uphill but never downhill. How was that possible? Then it occurred to me that going downhill, whether it's running, sledding, bicycling, or snow skiing, all of those activities feel way too much like losing control and that's something I hadn't ever wanted to do.

The next thing that struck me on this trail was that I was in a valley, but I still couldn't tell where the lookout point was to even know if I was headed in the correct direction. I didn't remember having been here on Sunday, so I just hoped I was moving in the direction of the lookout point because by this time I was starting to get tired, and my knee was hurting some too. I had turned my ankle a couple times and in the back of my mind, I just didn't have a good feeling. As I looked around and recorded the video, I noticed not only were all the leaves off the trees, but in this area most of the vegetation was dead too. I didn't recall having seen that elsewhere and it just felt like I was stuck in a pit I desperately wanted to get out of.

It seemed like such a great metaphor for how it can feel in life sometimes. We can feel lost, not knowing if we're even headed in the right direction. Alone, lifeless in this deep valley surrounded by hills that we aren't sure we can climb or even if we do tackle them, if they'll lead anywhere we want to go. We can lose sight of where we even wanted to go when we feel we are in a deep and dark pit.

The only place to go when we are in a valley is up, so I kept following the trail and eventually it's as though two tall trees were pointing me directly to the way out. If we continue to move forward, as long as we don't stop, even when we're not sure where it will lead, we can eventually find our way out of a valley. And often it will lead us exactly where we need to go as it did in this case. Pretty soon I could see a small bit of blue through the trees and that gave me hope. I reached a clearing where the lake fully appeared, and I knew immediately it was where I needed to be.

The valleys and pits of life can be overwhelmingly dark, leading us to wonder if there's any way out or if it's worth the effort to even try to find our way sometimes. Grieving a death or loss of some kind can be overwhelming or sometimes we can just feel dead inside. Whatever the pain, it's at these times, instead of isolating ourselves, we need to reach out for help and ask a loved one or even a stranger to help point us in a direction out of the pit. Or if we see someone who needs help, perhaps we need to be the one to lead someone out of the pit by calling 988, taking them to a local mental health assessment center or helping them create an action plan for outpatient support. It takes all of us looking out for one another, so never hesitate to ask for help or offer it. You could save a life, your own or someone else's. You and they are worth it!

Once I had reached the lookout point it was all downhill from there, literally and figuratively. There were no issues getting back down and out on the trail. No more obstacles, no more missteps, no more getting off the path in front of me. I was almost out of the woods, so to speak, and then something caught my attention off to the left of the trail. It was the carcass of an animal. I snapped a quick photo in that direction but didn't look closely enough to see what kind of animal it was. I'm not zooming in, but you're welcome to. It reminded me that as straight and narrow as the path is before us, even when we can see green trees again, it's important to remember to be grateful for each day we are alive, even those we struggle through, because there are always those who don't have that opportunity.

Life is rarely easy, but when we do struggle and yet don't give up, we grow our tolerance and strengthen our perseverance which helps us get through the valleys that are yet to come. And when we are able to reflect on where we've been, what we've survived, acknowledge those who have helped us along the way, and ask them for continued support as needed, that's when we can smile knowing no matter what lies ahead, we will find our way through it together.

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