Winds of Change

When the fierce winds of change have come swiftly, leaving behind a trail of unknown realities, I like to surround myself with the familiar. The known causes me to find freedom to change. One of my favorite things to do, when I feel lost in the evolving seasons of my life, is to hike. It allows me time to think as I go, this time saved for deep pondering, gives me strength to welcome the unknown. I gain perspective as I move toward a goal and the rhythm of the monotonous invigorates my brain; physical activity unlocks my soul, reminding me what it means to be human.

The Pikes Peak Incline, in Manitou, Colorado is my favorite climb because I find comfort in its severity. The trail is made up of a one mile ascent, where you gain 2,200 ft in altitude, at a 45 to 50 degree angle, adding in the switchbacks of Barr Trail, the simplest way to get back down, you will have covered over 4.5 miles as you arrive back to your car. This old railway track is only sufficiently maintained; its aged rail ties held into the side of the mountain with rebar and enormous water pipes you must maneuver around.

This hike takes me just under an hour to summit, giving plenty of time to reflect, ponder and wonder at creation. I have a hiking play list on my ipod that is specifically packed with thought provoking lyrics and slow moving melodies so I can step in sync with the beat. Arriving at the trailhead after a quick warm-up you cannot help but to set your gaze to the top; if you try and take it all in at once though, the sheer enormity of it you will cause you to quickly give up. It is amazing what happens when the steady pace kicks in as I begin thudding; step, step, breathe, step, step, breathe, an overwhelming need for air causes the focus to move my feet. I feel the blood pumping in my thighs as I use them to force my feet to movement; ten minutes in and, the blood no longer pounds in my ears causing my motion to become gentler. I feel my lungs deflate a bit, my breathing regulates and I inhale deeply the vanilla scented pine trees that surround me.

For some reason this specific trip feels reminiscent of a journey into the land of Victor Flemming’s adaptation of The Wizard of Oz, the color shifting from black and white to a dazzling color. The farther up the trail takes me the more I begin to see: the flowers on the side of the trail, the sharpie stained rocks with young lovers marking their affections, proof of a deep and intimate moment . Perceiving that I am not alone on this journey I begin to consider the movement of other people in sight, I am gaining on a couple of ladies, This excitement is short lived as an older gentleman who is thoroughly weathered and approximately in his late 70’s, with his grandson in tow, adeptly passes me, “on your left!” his words ring out. I try for a moment to keep up, but my untrained calves begin cramping causing a slow in my steps, my rapid heartbeat once again reverberates in my ears.

Slowing down I turn around to asses the ground I have covered, the climb has revealed a view of the mountain city, I can now see pieces of the rugged red formation of the Garden of the Gods in the left of my vision. The thick trees that surround me fade out as the sign of city life interferes with this natural growth pattern. The human developed structures break way and the cityscape continues to the horizon. The metallic glint of roofing materials sparkles and shines in the “great plains” as Katharine Lee Bates described in her lyrics for the song, “America the Beautiful”.

I turn back and steadily make my way up, passing weary travelers, and the rhythmic pace works to my advantage. In the middle of the trail, at the false summit the monotonous stair stepping tempo becomes a slow and tedious climb as you try to bring your knee to your face, stretching yourself to reach the next rail tie. This middle point is no laughing matter as many hikers opt out of the trail here and take the switchbacks of Barr trail back down the mountainside. If you can convince your body to maintain balance and push your muscles into obedience, the trail once again levels out, to the same rhythmic stair stepping routine as you were faced with in the beginning. Finally without much ado you grace the summit, although you feel there should be an amazing overture or round of applause, the people who have already made it to the top, just simply nod there heads at you in approval

I stop at the top long enough to catch my breath and then turn left to follow the switchbacks down the mountain, As I make my way down, the momentum of my journey picks up. My feet have come to know this trail as I have traveled it many times, the path being a sweet moment of familiarity, I usually jog down it, swiftly passing many fellow hikers. I am once again surprised when someone clips past me at a breathtaking pace. I watch this young man, like a mountain goat adeptly navigating a precarious cliff face; maneuver the steep path with a graceful knowledge of what steps to take next. Just as quickly as he has passed, he is out of my sight, continuing on his journey.

My mind takes a new turn, as I relate what I just saw to my own need for a familiar place. The concept I am faced with challenges me as I begin to ponder the truths of change and stability. I have often heard people relate obstacles in their lives to mountains they must journey. Once, a friend shared with me one such journey. She arrived at the bottom of her Mountain of Patience and had not learned her lesson well, so God took her hand, and they trotted right back around to the same trailhead. Here she was climbing this mountain afresh, struggling through it, trying to truly understand the reason she is on this expedition, instead of pushing through to the end and finishing, but never understanding.

I flashed back to the runner that had passed me, and once more arose the sense of pride I had when I passed others, because I knew the trail so well. “What if the lesson is not to do well on this climb?” I think to myself. What if being so caught up in doing well I had missed the actual joy of this trail? My thoughts flash back to the view of the halfway point and how the beauty of that moment invigorated me. I saw the city as a bird would; I am reminded of the strawberries peaking through the green luscious landscape on the side of the hill I had passed not but twenty minutes ago. “What if my goal changes from getting to the end quickly, but to enjoy this climb that I am on?” What if instead of running from the change I am faced with, I embrace it? Let the change do what it is meant to do, change! Let my view be altered, let my life be moved and enjoy it while it happens.

By this point the gears that compose my thoughts were in full motion, I had completely lost momentum in my physical journey. I sensed once again the warm vanilla scent of the forest I was in; looking to my left I saw an aged pine tree. Walking up with a determined motion, I buried my nose into a crack in the bark, and breathed deeply. The smell tantalizes my senses and my heart beats happily as I revel in this moment of transformation. I once again headed down the mountain, with a new focused center. I will not only hike the trail, but I will completely live it. I will use every sense I have to take in as much as I can. Ever since that day I have seen the world with a different lens. I took a few steps back and am amazed at the bigger picture I am faced with.