Hiking is a Spiritual Journey

We interrupt our scheduled programming on training hikes for this special message from my mom. I swear I didn't ask her to say all of these nice things about me. My mom came out for a visit last week and truth be told, she inspires ME. The first time she came out, struggling with altitude and an aggressive trail, we made it about halfway up Nine Mile Mountain. The next time, she reached that peak. This time, she was a hiking/running/walking machine! While I had to work much of the time she was here, she didn't waste much time kicking back. Nope, she threw on her fancy footwear, grabbed her pack and hit the road. A lot! I took off last Thursday and we attempted the summit of Sheep (Snow) Mountain, which is comprised of 5 peaks in a row. The trail between 1st and 2nd is a killer incline, no matter your fitness. Steep is steep. We made it 1st peak in an hour. An hour after that, we made it to 2nd and opted to turn around for exhausted legs and lungs. Mom, being the trooper she is, immediately decided that on her next trip out here, we would conquer this peak...or at least get to 3rd. :) She is a great example of taking small steps to achieve a big goal. There is no age limit or fitness prerequisite for adventurers. She is a real chick hiking. Go get 'em mom!

"I’ve just returned from five days visiting my daughter, Jessie, at Snow Mountain Ranch in Granby, CO. We talked and laughed, hiked and climbed. Jessie inspires me, and when I’m with her I find that I push myself just a little harder. Last week was no different. Boy did I push – about 2,000 feet upward to Second Peak of Snow Mountain. But for as hard as it is for me to get to the top, it’s just as hard to come down.


Author Paulo Coelho, in his book, The Fifth Mountain, writes that the Lord often has his prophets climb mountains to converse with Him. Coelho’s reasoning for this is that only when we are on high can we see how large the world really is, and everything else becomes small. “Our glory and our sadness lose their importance,” he writes, when we see the world from the top of a mountain.

We are small. Consider the ants. As I lean over on the steep inclines to catch my breath I notice them. They never rest but continue to climb, unquestioningly carrying the weight of a single grain of food. They don’t complain, as I am wont to do on the trail, of the toll the climb is taking on their legs, lungs, or heart, but faithfully struggle upward doing the work God has put before them.

On the mountain I know I am small. I am smaller than the ant. I can’t climb without stopping to rest; sweat dripping into my eyes and onto the ground. I struggle to breathe, my body aches, I stop mid-stride in an attempt to slow down my heartbeat. Eventually I begin asking God to flatten the path before me, to move the mountain out of my way. I want to reach the top but I want my journey to be easy.

Still I climb; fighting, pleading, rationalizing, negotiating with every step. My physical limitations give way to my mental limitations until finally, depleted of my strength, all my inadequacies exposed, I abandon myself to the trail.

And He moves. Not the mountain; He moves me. And I look up to find that I’ve reached the top.
It’s hard to come down from the mountain because I know I will be leaving a piece of myself, my weakness, behind. Maybe that’s why I climb; to get a glimpse of how much larger the world is and to remember how small I really am."