(Part 4 of a 5-blog series; click here for more: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 5)
Isn’t it funny how quickly we get used to some new path or new experience in life? That new baby arrives & we are just giddy with excitement, carefully cradling the tiny, fragile head, delicately diapering the soft, pink bottom, and swooning over every little whimper. Two weeks later, we’re nonchalantly slapping a diaper on his stinky butt, pulling onesies over his spituppy face, and while still swooning over his peacefully sleeping form, we’re also wishing we could flush him down the toilet when he squalls at all hours of the night.
The newness wears off. The adrenaline rush subsides. The once-scary process becomes second nature.
I’ve gotten used to my adventurous trail hike. It doesn’t seem scary at all anymore. What once felt like a long, arduous, risky path – now feels well-worn, fast & familiar, and easy to navigate.
So I ventured a new trail.
I headed out the same old way; along the electric-line easement, left into the woods, up the ridge into national forest. But where the path meanders thru a sunny Aspen stand & our familiar granite stone marks the left turn...I randomly decided to go straight. I had some time; Kevin was still home with the kids, little ones were napping, Nekoda wasn’t due to nurse for another hour or so.
This trail wound down the side of Rampart Range, towards Woodland Park, and alternated between cool wooded areas & sun-streamed vistas. The day was gorgeous, and I relished the screen-saver views & sound of high winds blowing thru the tops of pine & fir. I realized after a few minutes that I had been this way once before with Kevin, over a year ago, not long after Serene was born, but before I was pregnant with Nekoda.
Sections of the trail cut horizontally across the side of the wooded mountain, creating switchbacks to soften the steep grade, barely notched five or six inches wide into the crumbly decomposed-granite face. And after a few days of intense afternoon rainstorms, these narrow paths are slippery & unstable, washed over with pine needles, pebbles, twigs. Scary. Risky. Dangerous.
Okay, not really. I’m sure Kevin would have run down them, sure-footed & swift, barely bothered by the skittering of granite rocks down the side of the mountain. Plenty of hikers from town use this trail to head up into the national forest. But for me, it was challenging, physically & mentally. I slowed to a carefully hunkered-down walk, picking my way along the narrow passageway, keeping a steadying hand on the ascending face.
For me, this was courage. Just to continue forward, on the washed-out trail, unclear about where it was heading.
I’m getting braver.
(Part 4 of a 5-blog series; click here for more: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 5)
Isn’t it funny how quickly we get used to some new path or new experience in life? That new baby arrives & we are just giddy with excitement, carefully cradling the tiny, fragile head, delicately diapering the soft, pink bottom, and swooning over every little whimper. Two weeks later, we’re nonchalantly slapping a diaper on his stinky butt, pulling onesies over his spituppy face, and while still swooning over his peacefully sleeping form, we’re also wishing we could flush him down the toilet when he squalls at all hours of the night.
The newness wears off. The adrenaline rush subsides. The once-scary process becomes second nature.
I’ve gotten used to my adventurous trail hike. It doesn’t seem scary at all anymore. What once felt like a long, arduous, risky path – now feels well-worn, fast & familiar, and easy to navigate.
So I ventured a new trail.
I headed out the same old way; along the electric-line easement, left into the woods, up the ridge into national forest. But where the path meanders thru a sunny Aspen stand & our familiar granite stone marks the left turn...I randomly decided to go straight. I had some time; Kevin was still home with the kids, little ones were napping, Nekoda wasn’t due to nurse for another hour or so.
This trail wound down the side of Rampart Range, towards Woodland Park, and alternated between cool wooded areas & sun-streamed vistas. The day was gorgeous, and I relished the screen-saver views & sound of high winds blowing thru the tops of pine & fir. I realized after a few minutes that I had been this way once before with Kevin, over a year ago, not long after Serene was born, but before I was pregnant with Nekoda.
Sections of the trail cut horizontally across the side of the wooded mountain, creating switchbacks to soften the steep grade, barely notched five or six inches wide into the crumbly decomposed-granite face. And after a few days of intense afternoon rainstorms, these narrow paths are slippery & unstable, washed over with pine needles, pebbles, twigs. Scary. Risky. Dangerous.
Okay, not really. I’m sure Kevin would have run down them, sure-footed & swift, barely bothered by the skittering of granite rocks down the side of the mountain. Plenty of hikers from town use this trail to head up into the national forest. But for me, it was challenging, physically & mentally. I slowed to a carefully hunkered-down walk, picking my way along the narrow passageway, keeping a steadying hand on the ascending face.
For me, this was courage. Just to continue forward, on the washed-out trail, unclear about where it was heading.
I’m getting braver.
(Part 4 of a 5-blog series; click here for more: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 5)
