My husband Jim has often said that his experiences on youth group backpacking trips taught him that the stragglers are the ones who don’t get any rest. The group moves ahead along the trail and stops at a certain point, waiting for everyone to catch up. As soon as they do, the leader says, “Okay, let’s go!” And so the slow ones just have to keep going. The whole group can’t just sit there and wait for them, but they’re the ones who need rest the most. (If you want a tale filled with drama, pain, and endurance, ask Jim to tell you about the time he went on an eight-day trip with an ingrown toenail. Although it sounds kind of funny now, it most certainly wasn’t then. Isn’t it interesting that the size of the painful body part doesn’t necessarily bear any relation to the size of the pain’s affect? Jim remembers very little from that trip other than his having to slog along feeling that toenail dig into his flesh with every step.) So . . . do I have to spell out the lesson here? Maybe just a little? The importance of being beforehand instead of behind, being proactive, being prepared—all those boring, boring, boring things that are nevertheless so true—apply here. It’s too late once you’re on the trail to get into good enough physical shape to keep up. It’s too late to pack your backpack properly so that you can reach the most-needed items easily, or indeed to bring the necessities at all. It’s not fair to rely on kindhearted people to rescue you, people who have indeed taken thought ahead of time. I’ve been on both sides of that situation, and neither one is any fun. (Although it’s probably fair to say that it’s better to be the one giving the favor than the one having to ask for it.)
On our recent trip, I forgot to bring along my little daypack, the one that’s just big enough for my water bottle, wallet and camera, with a few miscellanies thrown in. So Jim had to put my water bottle in his backpack, and I had to carry my camera in my hand. He didn’t mind, and one water bottle more or less didn’t make any difference to him, but it really wasn’t fair that he had to make up for my forgetfulness. And every time I wanted a drink I had to ask him for it. I did refuse to drink out of those horrible goatskin botas that he thinks are just the bee’s knees. And the straggling problem doesn’t affect us, as I can always count on Jim’s stopping to take pictures and giving me a rest. (His photographs are really good; maybe he should start a photography blog. Our house is graced with a number of his framed pictures.) I will admit that I pooped out a bit on the third hike of the day at Canyonlands on Saturday. We had first covered well over two miles on a trail that included steep climbs over rocks and hoicking up a couple of ladders, with some very confusing trail markings that made for some extra distance, then another mile-long trek, and then this one, which was billed as being 2.5 miles. About a quarter of the way on that one I said I just couldn’t go any further. So we went back, of course retracing that quarter and therefore walking well over a mile total. So I don’t feel that I was too wimpy. There was a very kind husband along on our first hike (in addition to Jim) who carefully helped his tearful wife over a crevice in the rock that she didn’t think she could navigate; he kept hold of her waistband and encouraged her until she made it.
Is there any area of your life where you feel constantly behind, that as soon as you get caught up the whole thing starts all over again, and you never get a break? Right now I have a laundry room full of piles, as I didn’t get all the clothes washed before we went on our trip and of course I now have all the dirty clothes that we brought back. So maybe I’d better end this post and go get that done. I just got the ironing caught up yesterday, and now here’s a whole new batch. Perhaps I should do a little practicing what I preach, and finish the whole process today.