Don’t Look Up
The day after coming down....
The morning after coming down to the bottom of the Grand Canyon was a harsh one. All of the joy, the feelings of accomplishment and success, all vanished when I began to get out of bed. My feet! They were on fire, on my left foot the 3 toenails starting with the pinky toenail were turning black. I had clipped my toenails before leaving home for my trip but clearly I had not clipped ENOUGH. Also (and I figured this one out once I got home), I was now wearing a lift in the heel of my left boot. That lift was probably enough to make my boot a teensy bit too small- and push the toes into the front of the boot. Ouch- they hurt. Moving up, were my calves that felt like someone was pulling them to the farthest points they could go. Everywhere else on my legs was just general unidentifiable aching. All I could think was, “This is 80 and I don’t want to be 80”.
The one highlight of this morning was practicing my meditation. I chose to get up earlyish (around 6) and sit at a picnic table. It was a beautiful moment when you could see just the last star as the sun rose. I chuckled at the guidance that said, “Feel the space between your back and the room”. Where did the room end in this expansive canyon?
Arriving at breakfast was a trick. I had to walk the length of the cabin, walk down a couple of steps, and then walk to the dining hall where they actually had TWO of what looked like incredibly large steps up. Honestly those weren’t half as bad as taking the steps DOWN. Anything down was a nightmare. After breakfast our guide told us that we would be doing a hike along the Colorado River in the morning (just a small round trip 7 mile hike!) and then another small hike in the afternoon. I grimaced at the thought. I realized it was important to keep moving before our big accent the next day but my legs were not in agreement with reason.
When we started our morning hike the one thing that made me happy was it was an excuse to use my hiking poles! I didn’t feel that using them to walk to breakfast and back was appropriate (I felt I would look similar to my mother who used a walker in her 90th year) but on a hike that was a-okay! I noticed as we started out that I was actually the only one using the poles. Everyone brought theirs but no one else seemed to need them. The next thing I noticed was trail order. When we came down the canyon my daughter was out in front behind our guide and then I was next. Following us was the other couple who joined us- the woman was a marathon runner and her husband was just your average guy. They came from St. Louis so they had no acclimation to above sea level living. I have to admit I felt a bit proud hiking faster than a marathoner and a man! But now that day one was over I was dead last. I was the only one with poles. Even when the marathoner seemed to stop every few feet to take pictures I was still...dead last.
As we hiked that morning my pain and the fact that I was last in the hiking order overwhelmed me. Even though we were just meandering at a relatively flat space (a little up, a little down) I felt like a loser. All of that pride from yesterday was long gone and I felt like I was too fat, too old, too unfit to be hiking. Thinking back I can’t believe I had given up so quickly on myself- the lady who hikes a minimum of twice a week at home. But I felt pretty lame. I thought, “how in the world am I going to make it up the canyon tomorrow?” When we reached what was about the 3 miles mark we took a break. I turned to the guide and said, “How about you guys keep going? I’ll just sit here and chill”. And that’s what I did. I just sat and wallowed in my hiking pity wondering how the hell I was going to make it through the rest of the day. Don’t get me wrong, the hike was beautiful. There are sites at the bottom of the canyon that you certainly don’t see at the top or on the way down. With the Colorado RIver next to us we saw beautiful vegetation that I didn’t expect to see in the desert. The rocks are much older at the bottom of the canyon and their colors were redder and bluer. And yes, in spite of the laws in national parks I did take a few tiny, hopefully weightless, samples.
For the afternoon hike I decided to not go at all. I didn’t hang out in the cabin, I just hiked with the group to the beach on the Colorado, kicked off my hiking boots and put my toes in the sand. I had brought my kindle (lighter than carrying an actual book) with me and I read some Brene Brown (a great author to get you out of any cycle of self pity). I enjoyed watching a rafting trip go by (why wasn’t I doing that instead of hiking out of the canyon?) and I let my feet touch the 42 degree water (when was I ever going to get the opportunity to touch the Colorado River again?). By the end of the day I was just hoping for a good night’s sleep and a little less pain for the next day. Honestly, I was hoping for a lot less pain. Our accent the next day would start at 6 AM and I imagined it taking at least 10 hours to make it to the top. I was hopeful our 9.5 mile hike up would not be my last hike.