|
 |
Mountainside Adventure
|
|
|
 |
|
|
 |
Location: Blogs Bonnie Willow |
 |
| Posted by: Bonnie Willow |
8/13/2006 7:18 PM |
My calendar
proclaimed the impossible... that it's been a full year since my feet
were severely injured. I pondered the circumstances during the few days
around the anniversary of the life-changing event. I had hopped
barefoot off a ladder onto cement, tore the plantar fascia in the bottom of
both feet, compressed my spine, put my back muscles into 10 days of
spasm, and twisted up the fascia (connective tissue) in my entire body
in the process. Not comprehending the extent of the injury, I said "ow"
and put on my hiking boots for a long hike. I didn't begin learning
about how to repair the damage until two months on the couch - and six months without any walking - forced me
to learn.
A
recent sweltering July day inspired Gary and me to find a cool place to
go. The coolest spot, of course, is the reservoir halfway up the side
of Pikes Peak. In the car, with an excited dog panting over my
shoulder, the date suddenly struck me. Exactly one year before, I had
hiked around that same reservoir after my injury. By the time I
returned to the car, I knew I was in big trouble. Now, on the
anniversary of that fateful date, I was returning to take my first real hike in a year.
It
went well. I hiked slowly but normally around the far side of the
reservoir. We set our things by the water's edge and inhaled peace. I
built a castle out of the crumbled granite particles that serve as
sand. Rocky Mountain seagull feathers decorated the red granite
turrets. The wet crumbled stones massaged the soles of my feet. I held
out dog cookies on my palm; Gypsy delicately plucked them off to
devour. Gary and I drank mint-leaf water and ate organic raisins and almonds. I held
out almonds for our gourmet dog to eat off my hand as if it were a
platter. We splashed and chased one another through the shallows. One
step too far almost sent me tumbling into the depths of the snowmelt
lake!
As
the sun began to lower, we rested on the shore. I selected the perfect
assortment of stones, all ovals about one inch long. I held them out on my
hand, so Gary and I could take turns tossing them in. The goal was to
see who could throw a stone the farthest; the prize was a good kiss.
Shortly into the game, Gypsy began to whine. She is not the whining
type of dog, normally. She lay with her head on her paws, brow furrowed
in concern. Whenever we threw another stone, she whined. Eventually we
understood. The stones were exactly the same size and shape as her dog
cookies and her almond snacks. I held them in my palm the same way as I
fed her. She thought we were throwing her snacks into the water! Poor
little tormented dog! We showed her the stones, let her sniff and lick
them. After that the whining ended, but her brow remained furrowed til
we stopped tossing stones.
Two
miles up in the air, the sky is a whole lot closer than normal. We
watched the casually gathering clouds mingle their grays over the lake.
Without warning, a thunderclap exploded just over our heads like an atom
bomb. We could feel the electricity on our skin as the ground shook!
All the fishing
fathers and sons, all the hikers among the aspens, all the relaxers
like us grabbed our gear and leapt into action. The lake was vacated in
a matter of moments, as the rain began. We all exchanged rueful laughter as
we passed one another, soaked but smiling under the high altitude
rainbow as we hurried along the trails. The rain was refreshing. Nobody
died of thunder exposure. Best of all, my feet felt good the whole way
back!
Now
I'm on a regimen of regular short hikes, to build back my strength.
Revisiting my favorite hiking spots feels like a reunion of old
friends. The doctors said it takes a year to heal from this type of
injury, but only now do I believe them. With the company of nature and
my trusty walking stick, I'm fully celebrating my ability to exericise
again.
Fitness, here I come.
|
| Copyright ©2006 Bonnie Willow |
| Permalink |
Trackback |
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|