Climb Any Mountain

This weekend my family left the Cape and drove up to Vermont to visit my sister-in-law and her partner for a couple of days. They rented a house in a little town in Vermont and as soon as we made the plans to visit, I began to envision rolling green pasture lands picturesquely dotted with black and white cows, thick slices of Vermont cheddar cheese accompanying a crisp glass of pinot grigio and waking up to dive into pancakes smothered in Vermont maple syrup. The last time I was in Vermont was when my teenage daughter was a baby and my husband, my parents and I did a little New England sightseeing trip. I remember the charm of the pastureland, Ben and Jerry's ice cream in the afternoon and of course, plenty of cheddar cheese.

As we left the Cape my daughter offered her only request in return for leaving her friends, internet and cell phone access behind to participate in the family gathering--a Ben and Jerry's t-shirt. "Of course," I nodded--remembering from the last trip that there was no scarcity of the famed ice cream shop--no problem.

As we drew nearer to our destination, I was surprised to see no green pastures...no black and white cows...no cheese shops...no Ben and Jerry's. Our car began to climb up, up, up the side of a mountain. There were tall green trees, enormous boulders and a river running alongside our two-lane road. We pulled into the quaint little mountain town and noticed most of the shops displayed clearance signs for ski wear and other heavy duty outerwear--no Ben and Jerry's. Our car climbed higher up the mountain and then turned onto a dirt and gravel path which led even further up the mountain-side. My sister-in-law, Inez, had rented a ski cabin tucked into the hillside complete with a babbling brook in the back and relatively no neighbors. Once I recalibrated my expectations to the reality of the surroundings, I began to appreciate the wooded scenery and the sound of the wind in the trees and the water running over the rocks. We spent a low-key weekend walking in the woods, eating fantastic homemade New Mexican enchiladas, talking and laughing late into the night, and enjoying each other's company.

Yesterday before loading up the car for the return drive to MA, I took the dogs on a run to discharge some of their energy so they could snooze away on the long drive ahead. I am not accustomed to running in mountains and it seemed that no matter which direction I turned on the winding dirt path, I was faced with an uphill climb. Zeebo, my male Dane, loved the challenge of the incline and galloped up each rise in relative ease, his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth. Every once in a while he would gaze back at me, wheezing and shuffling behind, as if to say "Isn't this the best time ever?" My thigh muscles burned and my calves strained as we climbed the rising slope. The run took so much effort, both in terms of the steep incline but also due to the sliding gravel underfoot.

When the run was over and each of the dogs lay spent and panting on the wood floor in the lodge, I thought about how our run represented the challenge of living a fulfilling life. At different junctures in each of our lives, there will be hills--some of them quite steep and challenging and appearing insurountable. The choice is ours as to whether to do the uphill battle first and then enjoy the downhill slide later or take the easier way first and then gear up for the harder climb at the end. Basically there is no getting around the uphill portion--we all have to face it at some point; our choice in the matter is how we decide to tackle it. We can power up it in leaps and bounds; we can shuffle up with our heads down placing one foot in front of the other, not looking up til we reach the summit; or we can move upward at the pace that suits us best, soaking in the majestic view while gaining a new appreciation of our muscles and lungs working in tandem to help us in reaching our summit.

I have worked with clients who prefer to experience the ease and thrill of the downhill ride; they want to postpone the work of the uphill climb or somehow detour the steep trek altogether if at all possible. My challenge in working with such folks is to serve as a sherpa of sorts and help them create a map for the climb, breaking it down into manageable steps so as not to become ovrwhelmed and frightened with their own personal Mt. Everest of goals looming in front of them. Like the canine encouragement I received from Zeebo, I encourage and cheer on my clients as they tackle their own hills and mountains while on their way to reaching their dream destination.

Today as I write this entry and reflect on the challenge of the run yesterday, I feel proud of my accomplishment of running the mountain with my dogs. I am happy to have the experience to reflect on rather than choosing the easier route which would have involved plopping down into the carseat then nosing down the mountain without breaking a sweat. I am also thankful to have had my trusty and always exuberant running buddies alongside to make the challenge a bit more fun.

So, we didn't find a Ben and Jerry's (but my daughter settled for a Vermont sweatshirt instead); we saw only a few black and white cows; we didn't gorge on Vermont cheddar cheese but we did enjoy maple syrup one morning with homemade blueberry pancakes. We had a wonderful time with family and I got to experience the challenge of an up-hill adventure.

Thought for the Day: Have you been choosing the down-hill slope lately and avoiding the challenge of the uphill climb in your own life? What can you do to break the task down a bit into more manageable steps leading you to your desired goal?

May your trails be crooked, winding, lonesome, dangerous, leading to the most amazing view. May your mountains rise into and above the clouds.
--Edward Abbey