It was still dark when I pulled into the parking lot. I sat for several minutes waiting to hear the end of an NPR story and hoping the rain would quit. A second car pulling up to the trailhead broke my solitude. I knew if I didn’t step out into the cold, I would turn the ignition and head home. Slowly I gather the essentials; water bottle, banana, camera, second lens, hat, gloves, and organize my rucksack for the short hike.
It was still well before light when I started down the hill.
I spent half an hour at the beach; watching the sun come up; taking pictures; eating my banana. Within ten minutes, the first of several other hikers arrived. Soon it was fully light and the sky was no longer interesting, just shades of grey. I stuffed everything back into my rucksack and with a final look around, started up the trail. I made sure I hit the timer on my watch as I passed from the beach and into the woods.
Moving upward this time, I no longer had to worry about controlling my momentum. The morning light filtered through the trees and I was surprised by the number of people on the trail. I may have arrived first, but I wasn’t alone. The first three quarters of a mile go by quickly and easily. As soon as I passed two huge old-growth stumps I’d noticed on the way down (and a trail marker a few feet further) I knew the fun was over. From this point the trail gets serious and doesn’t let up until you can see cars in the parking lot. In spite of the grade, I reach the parking lot in 28 minutes; breathing like a pack mule and dripping sweat.
Back at my desk and dealing with life, I’m pleased with my effort and ready to do it again. For me, every day is a choice. Do I use food or abuse food? Do I get up and walk or do I sit? I’ve wrestled with this too long to assume I got it under control, but today, so far, so good.
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