Tuesday, July 6, 2010
I grew up in Saskatchewan, on the flat flat flat prairie. 8 years ago I moved to Calgary, which is within spitting distance of some of the finest hiking, skiing and outdoor mountain sports activities in the world.
I always brace myself for the scorn I inevitably receive when I tell people that I don't ski, hike, or mountain bike. In the almost decade I've been here, I've never hiked through the Rockies, even though I can see them from my window.
When we were in BC, Gary took me on my very first hike. We climbed up a path leading to the top of a small hill/mountain. The hike was about 2 km to the summit, and then back down, and it took us just over 2 hours in total. It was awesome.
The hike was pretty steep, and was marked intermediate for the slope of the path. After two minutes, I was pretty sure I wasn't going to make it. I felt unfit, out of shape and totally pathetic.
When we got to the top, I felt an incredible sense of achievement. It was really great to know that I did it - I made it.
Today I was struggling to motivate myself to exercise, but I made myself do it. As I was doing horrible, horrible bicycle crunches, I thought about that hike, and how good it felt. How good it will feel 60 lbs from now, to bound up a mountain and not be held back by doubt over whether my body can actually handle what I want it to do.
Here's a photo of me on that mountain. I think I'll print it out and keep it close at hand for those times when motivation lags.