Last year, I set out to hike Mt. Washington with the dogs and the man. Mission accomplished by July 3rd, so we figured we'd keep going and hike the other mountains in the state that exceed 4,000 ft. (48 in all). We managed to summit four last year: Washington, Pierce, Eisenhower, Jefferson.
I decided to continue that quest this year, but this time I would be without my male counterpart. My first hike of the season was, of course, bittersweet, but I have more than a decade of solo hiking under my belt that allowed me to enjoy the journey (plus two adorable four-legged girls that kept me company).
A gorgeously sunny day on Cannon Mountain, 4,100 ft., in photos:
It is appropriate that the New England spring arrival would bring with it other upheavals, changes, room for growth. Call it New Beginnings, represented by the koru fern of New Zealand.
I say, let there be light.
After the rains, room for more lightheartedness. A focus back on me, what makes me happy. I didn't realize how much I was missing physical and emotional light.
A painful move to a new apartment, now surrounded by more than a dozen windows almost floor to ceiling high, letting in precious sun. I feel like I finally stopped holding my breath.
There will be many lonely moments, to be sure. Many more tears to shed, but with that necessary space to grow and be and live and laugh. Time to enjoy the light, the lightness.
Ah, spring is finally here. My soul rejoices! Last week, I headed south for a much-needed visit with friends and family.
Easter at the farm--egg painting, hunting, time spent with relatives and of course my mom looking so beautiful. The magnolia tree was in full bloom, my favorite spot in the world:
Clearly I am no egg artist, but I had fun because it involved getting messy!
And if I can remember this container of food dye from when I was a very young child (like, my earliest memories of egg painting, I was probably 3 or 4), then I *think* it's time to throw it out.
So much fun seeing the next generation hunt for eggs!
Headed south to visit my good friend Steph near Annapolis. Spent the day touring the downtown, popping in a spice shop to smell black truffle salt, drink iced coffee by the water, and generally enjoy the sunshine and warm weather.
Not pictured: some great conversation and food shared throughout the day. Nothing fills the soul like a good friend's company.
Popped over to D.C. to visit my great aunt Arlene. Together, we headed to Arlington cemetery to see Tony. It's a strange feeling to know someone who is buried here, but it's such a beautiful space, very humbling:
Grilled dinner and dessert (meringue, yum!) at Arlene's home on her pretty back patio. I am so blessed to have my Grandma's younger sister in my life. Her wisdom, humor and strength are inspiring:
I am so blessed!
You know that feeling: you've had it up to here, you're frustrated, tired, you've psyched yourself out of a new challenge, you've decided you just can't do it. We've all been there (some of us more than we care to admit). It's enough to put a good-sized dent in your ego, large enough to let the doubts creep in. "Maybe I'm not cut out for this!" Time to give up, pack it in, and then that glum feeling of not being good enough to tackle the challenge is all-consuming for me. It literally ruins my night, and sometimes taints my emotions the next day, too.
Those feelings in that moment are telling you to take a break. Come back to it later. Let it rest in your subconscious, whatever mental or physical obstacle is in your path, just let it sit there for a while--a day, a week, whatever it takes. But come back to it when you're more relaxed. Chances are, you've worked through the issues in your brain, and now you are ready to accept that challenge and conquer it.
For the chick who has always relished a scholastic challenge, all these new activity-related challenges are forcing me to take another look at how I handle obstacles I'm unaccustomed to facing. And, sad to say, I have found that I tend to act like a child, throwing a minor tantrum. I whine. I stomp around. I huff. "It's not fair!" Ugh, give me a break, little girl. Grow up already!
So I took a step back on three new activities: a particularly challenging route on a climbing wall that I attempted numerous times, only to run out of arm strength while stuck and then fell each time after saying "I can't do it, I give up!"; a tough spin on the pole (previous attempts of which left me slightly bruised and bloodied and ready to quit the class altogether); and baking sourdough bread.
A motley crew, that list.
Two weeks were all I needed. For two weeks, I completely forgot about the climbing. Didn't think about it at all. When I returned, I had a whole new perspective and was ready to use a different technique to conquer that route. I needed space before I was ready to meet that obstacle head-on.
For two weeks, I went over and over and over in my head the exact way I would enter into the pole spin, my leg positioning, I imagined the feel of the momentum and mentally practiced the routine. I came back to the class and managed to get through about a dozen not-half-bad spins that were slightly more graceful than previous attempts. For this challenge, I needed to prepare for it and build up the confidence needed to pull it off successfully.
The bread...that's another story. Since my first successful batch, I've attempted two newer batches that have failed during the rise. They just fell apart and turned all soupy and the yeast lost its elasticity. I tried warmer conditions, cooler conditions, plastic wrap, more rest time. Nothing seemed to work. Bread: 2, Becky: 1. Sourdough yeast is a tough competitor and is definitely not on the home team. I'm not ready to give up entirely, but I need some breathing space on this one before I can come back and tackle this again.
As an aside, I'm diving back into my banjo practice, starting from scratch with lessons from a new teacher. I have a feeling I'll need to put this newly acquired knowledge about myself to work for my music practices as well.
Tucked away behind North Conway, N.H., Cathedral Ledge rises dramatically above its hemlock and white pine neighbors with steep rock ledges. With rock climbing during the summer, ice climbing in winter, this spot is so popular that you might wait a while for your turn to climb.
It took me one year to gather my courage and commit to ice climbing. I wanted to attempt it last year, but chickened out. This year, I purchased two spots in an EMS class, Intro to Winter Climbing (learning the basics of ice climbing and mountaineering) for the man's birthday. I packed a bag full of clothing layers and food. I like to be warm and well-fed, obviously.
After being fitted for our technical gear at the EMS store in town (gear including mountaineering boots, harness, belay device, carabiners, helmets, ice axe, mountaineering axe, crampons), we headed to the ledge for our day-long lesson.
Bulges of yellow and white snow-packed ice awaited, divots from previous climbers showing us the thicker ice to climb and avoid the thinly covered rocks that are the real gear-killers. Snow still lightly covered the hemlock needles, creating a cheery winter scene despite the light misting drizzle that started.
Our lesson began first with learning to climb in boots that do not allow your ankles to flex, a task tougher than you might think. Duck walk (inner arches pointed forward), French technique (sideways walking uphill), and International technique (front foot jammed straight into hill using crampons, back foot sideways with inner arch pointed uphill) allowed us to get to the ice slabs, layers and layers of ice either attached to rocks or acting as a pillar between rocks. Some of it brittle, some of it strong, we would learn by experience how trustworthy the ice--and our technique--would be. And so we began, with our awesome instructor Sara at the helm.
The thing about ice climbing is this: it's really a balancing act more than anything. The gear does most of the work. Sure, you are in charge of ensuring the front of your crampons are securely gripping into the ice for adequate footing. Yes, the axe must be hooked into the ice properly. But you don't need to be in fabulous physical shape to climb. You just need to be well-balanced--ice axe above head, legs spread to form a triangle between the axe and your feet. Swing the pick, kick toes into ice, push up. Repeat.
Thanks to my recent indoor climbing sessions, I've become accustomed to trusting the harness and climbing gear to catch me if I fall. I am now able to look down and around while climbing without any ounce of panic, which is a gigantic step forward for me in conquering my intense fear of heights. This was a fabulous advantage for ice climbing, where the stark beauty of the icy landscape surrounding you is a mental image you'll want to carry with you forever.
I'm not saying it wasn't physically and mentally challenging--it most definitely was both. But for our first time, it wasn't as scary as I thought it would be, and even when I got frustrated, I was still having fun.
We ended our lesson with self-arrest techniques to stop ourselves from sliding down a hill and over a cliff in the snow, an extremely important bit of knowledge for winter activities. Once we shed our gear, the man and I headed to Cranmore Mountain for some more fun on the mountain coaster and snow tubing. Hard work should always be followed up by hard play.
Mind over matter: I went climbing for the second time last night, with a marked mental improvement from my first time--no panic attacks whatsoever! I was even able to look down at my belaying partner while I was way up high without freaking out, getting dizzy, or needing to shore up my courage. Still *slightly* scared about the potential for falling, but overall I did a fabulous job and am proud of this step forward (or upward, as the case may be).
This is me, learning to climb at a nearby indoor climbing gym last Friday. This particular photo was snapped while I was freaking out, clinging to the wall, panting and unable to move, petrified of being perhaps 30-40 feet above the ground.
I trusted the equipment to catch me if I had fallen, just like when I was ziplining last year. I had trust in my knot-tying ability and in my belaying partner.
But I didn't trust myself. My brain was screaming, "I am extremely scared of heights! I have never done this before! I'm not very strong or sure of myself!"
That sensation of falling, regardless of whether it's on a roller coaster or a zipline, sends me directly into full-blown PANIC mode. I have less control when I'm off the ground. If I can't anticipate what's going to happen, then I can't prepare--and preparation is the main tool (mis)used by all serious worriers.
After I managed to swallow my fear way up there on that wall, I was able to push on and touch the top of the three climbing courses I pursued. I never fell (but even if I had, I would have been caught by the safety ropes and everything would have been okay).
Perfectionism, worry, control, insulating techniques...these are a handful of methods I employ to (wrongly) deal with insecurity. I don't trust myself. Why not? I have always picked myself up when I've fallen and I've gotten through many painful experiences. I am much stronger than I give myself credit for.
2011 has been a year of growth for me thus far. Growth doesn't come without some discomfort at times, but the outcomes are almost always worth the efforts to push past the pain.
In a bid to become stronger and more trusting of myself and my abilities (and let's be honest--also to have a lot of fun and shake things up a bit!), I'm continuing with my dance class for another couple of months, moving into the intermediate level that I never thought I'd be able to accomplish previously. I'm also learning to climb indoors in preparation for outdoor climbing later in the season. In previous years, I would have dismissed these activities, telling myself "I could never do that, I'm not strong enough, I'm too scared of heights, I'm too klutzy," or whatever other absurd notions have kicked around in my brain since youth.
The truth is, I'm getting stronger every day. I'm becoming more graceful (slowly but surely). I did just fine on my first day of climbing. Eventually I will effortlessly dive into a new activity or endeavor because I will have built up a lot more self-confidence. And that's a really superb feeling after decades of self-deprecation.
Last year, I set out to hike Mt. Washington with the dogs and the man. Mission accomplished by July 3rd, so we figured we'd keep going and hike the other mountains in the state that exceed 4,000 ft. (48 in all). We managed to summit four last year: Washington, Pierce, Eisenhower, Jefferson.
