There were twenty-seven of us when we started. It was fifty degrees at 7:00 AM one December Saturday morning when we hit the trail. We ranged in age from eleven to eighty, only three of us were female. All but myself had a connection to the Boy Scouts of America.
I had been invited to join this annual twenty-mile hike at Oak Mountain State Park for several years by a friend of mine from church, the organizer of the hike, but I always scoffed at the idea. No way would I want to joint a bunch of Boy Scouts in mid-December for a grueling slog. It sounded like some sort of misery that I wanted no part of.
But when the organizer asked me again this year, I thought, “I wonder if I can do it. I think that I can do it.” There wasn’t any commitment. I could bow at at the last minute if the weather was horrible or if my body didn’t seem cooperative at the time. So I said yes.
At sunrise, a handful of Boy Scouts, their leaders and parents, and friends and family of the organizer set off. I had never hiked with this many people before, maybe twelve at the most. Evidently, when you have this many people to corral, and some of them are pre-adolescent and adolescent boys, a certain type of leadership is required. I have never been barked at before, but we were given our marching orders in a tone that was military-like. To be honest, it rankled, but perhaps it was necessary in a group of this size and diversity.
I have always been a fast walker, and I have to remind myself to slow down and take breaks. In previous group hikes, I have always been in the pack up front. Not this day. These guys set out at what felt like a trot. We were on a rigid schedule because we needed to complete the hike by sunset. The organizer has led this hike for twenty-five years, and he knew what pace we needed to set and how long our breaks should be.
Not that I trailed or lagged behind, but I wasn’t up front. I got to experience what it is like to be toward the rear. The front group would stop for a break, waiting for the rest of us to catch up, then would take off again as soon as we, the slower hikers, barely had time to catch our breaths. It seemed so unfair. But I had been on the other side of that equation and knew how frustrating it can be to wait for a group. And we had to keep to the schedule.
We hiked seven miles, taking a couple of two minute breaks along the way, then stopped for fifteen minutes to eat, use the restroom, and peel off unneeded layers of clothing. Then there were another seven miles, with another fifteen minute lunch break before the last six miles back to our cars. In total, we hiked twenty miles in ten hours with a total elevation gain of 4000 feet.
That means there was a total elevation loss of 4000 feet because it was one giant loop. And that’s where my body felt it. I had blisters on the bottoms of my pinky toes. And my knees, especially the right, were definitely feeling it. We ended the hike with a steep downhill. Easy on the lungs, but hell on the knees. Thank heaven for trekking poles. And ibuprofen.
We may have started with twenty-seven participants, but only fifteen of us completed it. I almost bailed out at mile fourteen, but decided to carry on, just for the challenge. I am proud of myself for sticking with it and completing the entire hike. I proved to myself that my body, mind, and spirit could do it.
Though I chose this particular challenge, we can’t always choose those that come our way. Perhaps intentionally placing ourselves in situations that require more of us than we are comfortable with gives us the opportunity to see what we are capable of, so that when unexpected challenges do arise, we can more confidently face them. If we choose the path of least resistance all the time, we may never know how strong we are. Challenging ourselves can build our confidence, can make us feel more in control of our lives, and can provide us with opportunities to be positive examples for others.