My last day of summer before moving back to Provo for school. There were nigh unto a million things I wanted to cram in before summer ended - do some more reading, prep more for my classes, work on the honors program, write, sleep, maybe pack. Right. But instead (and perhaps in addition - there's still more time today) I set out with my family to accomplish one of my life goals of hiking Squaw Peak. I had accidentally discovered the trail to Squaw Peak a couple weeks ago while hiking through Rock Canyon with a friend. We explored it and made it to what seemed to be the top - I mean, it started going downhill and there was a huge field of wildflowers. Plus, we had to meet our ride at a certain time so we turned back, only to be informed later that we were half an hour away from the top. But today I was determined to conquer that mountain.
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| It's beautiful! (But right now it kind of makes me sore to look at it.) |
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| More beauty |
As we hiked, all of my concerns and obligations seemed to melt away. I was in nature with my family and my God, and it seemed that that was all that mattered. O-chem didn't matter anymore. Research didn't matter anymore. Work didn't matter anymore. All the books I hadn't read this summer didn't matter anymore. Expectations of others didn't matter anymore. I saw life from a different perspective, and I was content.
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| Contentment |
Well, I was as content as you can be when you're hiking a mountain, anyway. It was rough at some points. I've decided that hiking, like long-distance running, is more of a mental battle than a physical one. If you give up half-way there, you're shot and you won't make it. But if you convince yourself that you're fine and that you really do want to get to the top, your body almost believes you and you'll get there. But you have to really want to finish. I mean, something has to motivate you to undergo over three hours of physical exertion. I think that life's the same way. If you want the end goal in badly enough, whether it is a college degree, a successful family, your own business, or, eventually, eternal life, then you will be able to pull your aching body up the steep mountain, convinced that the end is worth the struggle. And you'll make it. It just takes vision. And endurance.
Finally, after 3 hours and 15 minutes, we reached the summit. Victory! The breathtaking vistas of the surrounding mountains, canyons, and Utah Valley made all of our struggles up the mountain worth it.
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| Victorious!! |
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| The surrounding mountains |
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| My valley |
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| Squirrel! |
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| Temple! (Look at the cool criss-cross patterns in the grass - never noticed that before.) |
As I sat on a rock and looked out over some of the dearest places in the world to me, we were high enough that everything in the valley appeared almost the same elevation. The hill that steals my breath every time I hike up to campus was barely noticeable. While I could detect a slight hill on the route to the temple, that journey, too, seemed to be nearly flat. And the hill in Rock Canyon Park that made me super dizzy when I rolled down it seemed to not even exist. The hills I'd struggled to conquer over the years suddenly looked like no big deal. Sometimes it's necessary to climb a mountain to realize that our struggles, though real and difficult, are so small in the big scheme of things and will appear to be mere trifles when we have reached our destination. So keep on keepin' on.
As my brother and I skipped down the mountain (not the whole way . . . ) and sang, I reveled in our success. Life goal accomplished.
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