Conversations with my Body

Every so often, I get a strong reminder that I am not a local, here. Today is by far the most beautiful day since I arrived. It's sunny and warm. The outdoors beckons. So I asked a friend if she could recommend a nice walk I could do by myself. She suggested a lovely trail called the Stanleyville Trail. It's a walk through the forest to a cove. Perfect! I asked if it was steep and she said, not really. There are some stairs, though. 

Lomond, where the trail is, was once a town named after Scotland's Loch Lomond. Once the National Park was established, Lomond's inhabitants were resettled and the town no longer exists.

This trail sounded great to me, so I set off. 

The thing is, I can walk pretty good distances at home, where it is flatter than flat. But climbing is difficult for me. My heart races and I feel like I should be alarmed. So when I need to, I stop often and wait for my heart to slow down again and continue. I'm sure it's just a matter of needing to get in better shape and certainly, since arriving here, I have been walking a lot, including up steep driveways and over hills. But clearly, that hasn't been enough.

The trail was on an incline, which I felt immediately. No problem. Except it just kept going up. It wasn't terribly steep or even all that high, but it was enough for my body to start having conversations with me.

Sitting atop some of the trail's stairs, catching my breath. It wasn't all stairs, though. Mostly narrow paths. 

Body: Hey. You're in your 60's, now. Maybe this is dangerous for you.

Mind: Don't be ridiculous. I'm in good shape. It's fine. And besides, it's beautiful. And when I feel winded, I take breaks.

Body: I don't like all this climbing.

Mind: It's good for you. Besides, if it's uphill now, it will be downhill on the way back, so--easy peasy.

And so I convinced myself that it was fine (which it truly was). 

The forested trail was beautiful with lots of mosses and changing colours:

Finally, once the terrain evened out, I could see that it was about to take me down again, toward the cove. Of course! The cove would not be at the top of a hill; it would be at the bottom. I had just climbed to the top and now had to go down. That part was fine, but that meant I would be climbing up it again, afterwards.

Body: You do realize that you are all alone. It's true your friends know where you are, but if your heart explodes (my body is over-dramatic), who will be able to go for help?

Mind: Hmm. It's true that I had expected to see at least a few other people along this popular trail.

Body: They say to listen to your body.

And so my body convinced me to turn around and head back instead of climbing down to the cove. I felt like a total coward for abandoning the trail just before it got spectacular. Sheer cowardice. I ran into a parks worker back in the parking lot and he said I really missed out. When I explained, he agreed that there was no one else on the trail, which during the peak season is never the case. But he looked at me like I was a wimp for turning back. The locals don't think twice about doing a trail like this, alone or otherwise. After all, it's an "easy" one.

Of course, my body felt fantastic after this hike. (It's such a liar!) So I have made an agreement with it. When John gets here, I will do the trail again. With him, so I am not alone. And I will share photos of the spectacular view.

This post will definitely be "continued"!