The trail was really a difficult hike.

It was steep. It was rocky. It was long. The weather was hot and humid.

The trail was really a difficult hike.

But I didn't care, because I really wanted to hike this trail. I wanted to look out from the bald at the end of the path. I wanted to stand on top of that mountain, with a complete sense of accomplishment, and take in the beauty that I imagined awaited me there.

So I endured the incline and distance and all the other hardships that continually surfaced as I hiked this trail.

Because I felt the goal was worth the sacrifice.

Maybe I was a little unaccustomed to hiking trails like this...maybe it wasn't as hard as it felt. But is there really a difference? Regardless of the ultimate reason, this trail was hard. I didn't bring enough water...I didn't bring enough food...I was wholly unprepared for the challenge.

But I was motivated.

And I thought that was all I needed.

So I hiked up the mountain. I hiked a little too fast at first. No doubt about that at all. I began to feel sick at my stomach from the over-exertion. I was moving entirely too fast for my endurance and experience level. And I had to stop in order to reassess my hiking speed.

And so I slowed down a little. I began to feel a little better after I adopted a pace that was more manageable.

And then I took a wrong turn.

I came to a fork in the trail, and I couldn't figure out which was the right trail. It looked like I was supposed to take the left fork, but after a few yards, I noticed the painted white blazes had been removed from the trees. So I decided this was not the correct trail, and I backtracked and took the right fork. I hiked this trail for a hundred yards or so, and it just dead-ended.

The stupid trail was confusing me.

I decided that, despite the misleading blazes on the other trail, it's always nearly impossible to understand vague signs, no matter how hard you're looking, it was the left fork I needed to take. No problem. The signs were confusing, but that's just how it always is when you're looking for signs that don't really fit in with your normal experiences. You'll often miss the signs altogether, or you'll totally misinterpret them. I'm sure anyone else hiking that trail would have never misread the faded white blazes, and they would, undoubtedly, have ridiculed me for my misunderstanding. But I was looking too hard for a simple sign to direct me on the right path, and I read the signs the way I wanted to read them...and I took the wrong trail.

But the error was quickly corrected, and I continued up the steep ascent.

I hiked up, and I was terribly hot. I had become accustomed to low humidity, and now I was back in the south-east...I was back in the humidity. So I was entirely too hot. But, of course, as always, it was the goal that was important...and this trail held a wonderfully rewarding goal.

And then it began to rain. It wasn't a very hard rain, though, and I was really relieved to be cooled a little by the drizzle. Back west, the storms were always full-fledged thunderstorms, throwing forth lightning and hail and wind and torrential rain. But back here in the south-east, summer storms are often just quick rain showers. They cool the landscape, and they feel refreshing.

The weather wasn't the only thing that changed with the coming of the rain, though. As I hiked on through the showers, I began to see a new side to my goal. I looked up at the mountain I was attempting to summit, and I realized it wasn't as flawless and beautiful as I had believed. It was ringed with trees at the top...the view from the summit would be obstructed. It wasn't the tallest mountain around...I wouldn't be able to see the distant horizon. Many of the trees on top were dead...they were the unsightly scars of men who had come before.

And for all these flaws, this mountain was still demanding so many sacrifices and toils from me.

The trail was still steep...the rain was subsiding, and the humidity was returning with a vengeance...the path was becoming rockier...and in the distance I could hear an approaching thunderstorm.

And all this trouble for a goal that was suddenly unrewarding and unfulfilling. So I stopped for a drink of water. And I sat by the trail and pondered my choices. And I looked long and hard at the mountain ahead of me.

I am not a quitter. All hardships are always worth the effort when the goal is noble. I will always endure pain in order to achieve happiness.

But this mountain, I suddenly realized, would never bring me happiness. This mountain was here to demand my labor...but it did not exist to reward the effort. This goal was unworthy...this goal would not make me ultimately happy...this mountain was, for lack of a better word, selfish.

So I stopped. I cut my losses.

It hurt...of course it hurt. I am not a quitter. I want to achieve my goals. But this goal was only going to be painful in the end...I could hear the thunder rolling closer...the storm was approaching.

I walked away from the mountain...I walked away from her.

And as I hiked back down the trail, the distant storm battered the mountain's summit.

That was certainly a relationship that would have ended in doom.

(c) 2001 Me

[Safety] [The Room] [The Trail] [Cool Summer] [Achievement] [Valkyries' Last Ride]
[Infinity] [The Eagle] [Spring Sunday] [Astray] [The Bumblebee] [Plastic Toy Soldiers]

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