My mind likes to play tricks on me. It likes to think that I can participate in, excel at, and enjoy any and every type of outdoor activity. Hiking. Camping. Rock climbing. Snowboarding. Badminton. Turns out my mind is one big fat liar.
While conversing with potential male prospects, descriptions of my personal interests and hobbies are screaming with versatility: “Well yes, I love to climb icy cliffs barefoot while carrying a weeks worth of peanut butter protein bars in my fanny pack to reach an unbreathable summit only to slalom ski down for the complete thrill (and maybe a new Facebook profile pic) shooting bears and throwing them on my back along the way to cook for dinner with my bare hands during next weeks camping trip. I am an outdoor connoisseur after all.”
After attempts to participate in any of the previously mentioned activities, it immediately becomes evident that my confidence is a complete and utter sham. My own mind is brutally against me, conning me to believe I have successful strength and stamina. Turns out the only thing successful about my attempts of impressing the Fun Outdoorsy Guy are blisters, sore muscles, and fifty different facial and verbal expressions representing my frustration.
I was painfully reminded of these frustrations on a recent hike. An hour and fifteen minute uphill hike. While I appreciate living in the Pacific Northwest and relish in its green and lush beauty, on this particular day there was minimal to no relishing. What I thought was going to be a piece of cake was clearly hindered by years of previously unmonitored actual piece of cake consumption.
It started out innocent enough. I had a spring in my step while I happily played compass, curiously discovering what direction I was hiking based on the adorably fuzzy moss growing on the tall and grandiose trees surrounding me. I would skip to a stop only to identify what kind of enchanting bird was singing out to us and playfully debate my guess: “I believe it’s a Chickadee but maybe you’re right, my fellow outdoor-loving friend, it very well could be a Blue Jay. I just love these moments of nature we’re sharing together.”
I admired the many rock climbers I passed by, daydreaming about what victory dance I will choose when I nimbly climb to the top of the cliff when I come back next week with all of my newly bought rock climbing gear. But most of all I was enjoying the attractive men in their Oakley sunglasses and sleeveless shirts as their calf muscles brilliantly bulged with each step in their meticulously laced brown hiking boots. What better place to meet men than on the trail of love?
Then it happened. Children started passing me. Old men with walking sticks were politely excusing themselves to go around my struggling slow pace. Each hill was growing taller and higher and steeper than the one before. My vision started to blur. The birds who were once cooing love songs in my ear were now mocking me. I was no longer smiling at the cute guy and pretending to like his dog hoping to get a future trail date. I was angry.
The mountain deceived me.
The only thing that kept me going was the reward of my carefully chosen Chocolate Brownie Clif Bar I was going to devour when I reached the top. An hour and ten minutes later the summit was finally in sight. I slowly got up from my crawling position and collapsed on the first rock I saw. I did it. I made it to the top. Little by little my vision came back into focus. The birds came back around and started singing my praises. My mind was right; I was a hiking champion. Any man should consider himself lucky if I were to accompany him on such a perfect uphill adventure.
It was now time for this champion’s reward. I lethargically reached into my bag ready to enjoy the last bit of anything good that was left in the world. Then as I pulled out my excited and shaking hand, it was completely covered in melted Chocolate Brownie Clif Bar. Figures.
Now I know better when asked to participate in any sort of outdoor activity. I answer with a newfound confidence: “Yes, I will participate in your hike. If it’s downhill both ways. And you’re willing to carry a cooler for my Clif bar.”
Hey, nice blog. But you could do with short, precise headlines… – a fellow blogger
Thanks for the advice!