Climb Every Mountain (Even If You Hate It)

My grandpa had a saying: "I like banging my head against the wall because it feels so good when I stop." I always took it as a joke. Because you know what feels better than that? Not hitting your head in the first place.

Last weekend, some friends were climbing a mountain under the "full moon"* following several successive snowstorms. It's considered a relatively easy hike without snow, maybe 2 miles of switchbacks and nothing really steep. So I went along (I really like the moon).

But it was late, and overcast, and my companions' legs were about twice as long as mine, and the dog kept stepping on my snowshoes and knocking me over. Overall, it was kind of an ordeal.

At the top, someone shared their beverage with the rest of us, who had not thought to bring anything to drink. I was sweaty and out of breath, and that first sip tasted like sweet, delicious heaven.

That seemed to be the general reaction to this quenching of thirst, and a conversation arose about the merits of deprivation. Someone told a story about some guy who had been without food in the wilderness for days and when he arrived at his food supply, a chocolate bar made him weep with joy.

In the days that followed, I saw that mountain in the distance and thought about how nice it was to be doing whatever I was doing then instead of stumbling uphill in snow, silently cursing my fate. I still have not decided whether I'm glad I went, or whether I believe that hardship can be gratifying enough to seek it out on purpose. Life is hard enough. Or is it that, for some, it's not hard enough?

Haiku for a Difficult Climb

Sure, this sucks now, but
What is the point of comfort
If that's all you've known?

*It was two days after the full moon, but don't tell that to a certain hike organizer who didn't believe me.

Chip off the old block?