Backseat - From Where I Sit

September 2006

By: Michelle

Some Contents May Have Settled…

Sometimes all it takes is a good walk in the country to make you realize all that you are missing in daily life. A few weeks ago, Kent and I decided to hike Crabtree Falls. It was a beautiful day and we were looking forward to getting away from it all. We hadn’t been out on a nice long strenuous hike in quite a while and it wasn’t long before I was reminded of how long it had been and that hiking ain’t what it used to be.

For one thing, I now have more moving parts to contend with than I did a decade ago. I would like to blame my difficulties on the fact that I had become soft because I have been spending too much time in the city rather than the fact that some how things just seemed to become looser as I aged - just like those shaky handles on the kitchen cabinets that need a little glue to help them set right once again. Unfortunately, I also realized that having all those moving parts now requires more effort on my part to keep the momentum going forward, especially on the uphill part of the journey.

I thought I was hiding this fact well, but several hikers along the way felt the need to offer words of encouragement and sympathy to me. I couldn’t help but notice the comments like “you are over half way there” and “the last half is much easier” were directed at me and not my husband Kent. What gives? Though he is older than me, he seems to be surviving aging better intact than I am.

After about the third or forth sympathetic look from other hikers, I became a woman with a mission. No matter what ache I felt, what twinge in the knee, grinding in the hip, strain in the lower back, I wasn’t going to stop. Besides there were little kids passing me on the trail. This madness had to stop. Just when I was at my most discouraged at the top of that latest string of stairs, I defiantly proclaimed “What is the point of going on the trail unless you are going to go all the way?” My pride loved the speech; my feet and my knees were less than enthusiastic. Kent just stared. Not exactly the rallying cry I had expected but it was the best I could do at the moment to muster the courage to go forward.

Things progressed nicely for about an hour, when another hiker, on his way back down made eye contact and started smiling at me. Here we go again – do I really look that out of shape? Before I could return his smile with a nasty look, he proceeded to tell me that he had “Good news and bad news. The good news is that we were only 3 minutes from the top. The bad news is that there was a snake curled up under the bench there.” Though I was totally worn-out, I decided I no longer needed a rest. In fact, I only took a cursory look at the “spectacular view” I had been seeking for the past 2 hours, just in case the snake decided to leave its den.

Kent of course decided to take a picture so we could identify it later. I told him that I had all the identification I needed, it was a snake and it was alive – enough said. Despite all those nature shows with the guys with funny accents hugging, kissing and toting snakes about, I had no desire to get closer to nature’s beauty. In fact I was now suspicious of every hole, every nook, and every cranny along the trail on the way back.

That is why it surprised me when I tripped as I don’t remember taking my eyes off the ground. As soon as my knee stopped skidding along the gravel path I immediately jumped up. I refused to look down at the throbbing wound. At that moment my sole purpose in life was to make sure nobody saw me and to restore what was left of my dignity. I began walking as soon as I caught my breath. Unfortunately for me, my rapid decent was not silent and Kent was immediately by my side, expressing grave concern and wanting to see my wound. He didn’t realize that I had no intention of stopping. After all the sympathy that had been offered along the way by total strangers, the last thing I wanted to do was let people know they may have been right.

Finally I relented. I was tired of practically running away from him as he was holding out his first aid kit imploring me to stop. He didn’t understand why I wasn’t applauding the fact that he remembered to restock the kit with supplies before he brought it along. I think it hurt his feelings but all is fair when my pride is under attack. Although, I have to admit it did feel better once he cleaned up and bandaged the wound. I eventually came around enough to actually enjoy the fact that I was being taken care of.

The rest of the way back was filled with hikers expressing sympathy at my bloody bandaged leg. However, somewhere along the route my attitude had shifted and instead of being defensive, I came to see my wound as a badge of honor. A 43 year old woman with a skinned knee is definitely no couch potato. It stood for the fact that I am out there in life taking risks. Having a husband following behind me asking if “my boo-boo is feeling better” had become more endearing than embarrassing. Instead of feeling like my life was half-empty now that I was less agile than in my previous years, I came to realize that though some of the “contents may have settled” over time, all the parts were still there, looser, but still there.

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