Go Tell It On the Mountain

Today I am forty.

But look - here is my birthday celebration. I purposely posed next to the oldest thing in existence - look how young I look next to this mountain!

Even more importantly, look how far I've come.

If you look close - really close - squint close - you might see from where we began our walk up this mountain. That line off my right hip, that is where our car is parked. Though the car is green so it is a bit camouflaged. So I understand if you miss it.

In planning this adventure, I chose a peak carefully, because failure was NOT an option. And to be clear, I had not climbed a large peak since I was in my twenties.

Geoff asked, "Shouldn't you work up to something like this?"

Who has time for that?

So though I set my sights high - a geographical destination at 14,000 feet - I set my sights realistically low.

This is a mountain you can walk up, no crampons and ice axes needed. This is a summit only three miles from the trail head. This is a wilderness journey without any scary mountain lions or trail uncertainty. Only Bill and Ted on their big adventure behind us, loudly talking into their cell phone and scaring away any moose that might be planning on popping out of the willows with a birthday wish.

The guy in the parking lot loading his three-year-old into his baby backpack - he summited about the same time we were coming down. The lady coercing her two adolescent daughters into continuing despite the "breeze" - same. The 10-year-old Boy Scout with his Boy Scout Troop - they made it - at the same time as Geoff and I. Even the Jack Russell Terrier with the short little legs made it to the tippy top.

But before I belittle the experience too much, let me assure you that climbing uphill for three hours hurts even when there is enough oxygen for trees and grass to grow, and at 14,000 feet can cause headaches, vomiting, dizziness, and tiredness that's not to believe. Dare I mention, Kyle, how your journey in a train up Pikes Peak ended? No, I won't. I'll let Mary ask about it.

It's a journey not to be attempted without a positive attitude, water, water, WATER, a good pair of shoes, and plenty of chocolate (Though I learned NOT the 60% cocoa type. The more sugar the better. A Milky Way would have been better.)

The night before our big hike, Geoff asked me, "Have you ever wondered what your bones look like?"

I thought a moment. "No. I have never thought about what my bones look like."

"Maybe you should think about what the inside of your body looks like as well as the outside."

Let me tell you there is nothing like climbing a mountain to make one consider what the inside of one's body looks like. Though perhaps this is part of the aging process - to start to worry about one's heartbeat, and the structural composition of one's knees, and the oxygen filling and collapsing one's struggling lungs while walking closer to the exosphere.

Geoff asked me if I felt like I accomplished what I wanted, making it up this mountain. I did accomplish it. I made it to the summit. And it was a CROWDED summit what with that Boy Scout Troop. I counted about 40 people enjoying the views along with us. Perhaps one for every year of my life?

But it's funny, it's not that I made it that mattered to me. But it would have mattered galatically if I hadn't made it. This day was not about the journey or experiencing nature or interacting with another human. This day was about reaching the summit. I would have crawled on my hands and knees up this mountain rather than admit defeat. Barring an electrical storm or a heart attack, I was determined to get to the top. Because what would it have meant if I was no longer capable? One step at a gasping time through the treeline, the willows, the grassland, the rocky soils, and the mars like rocks until the geology of Colorado was spread around and under me like a model topo map. Then I could blissfully eat my sandwich knowing that my body may be forty, but it is still functioning - good enough to get me where I want to go.

I must be doing all right. Because here I am on the top of Mount Bierstadt at 14,060 feet in the air.

And you know what - it was easy.