Recently I visited the Indian Peaks Wilderness to attempt the marathon loop, 26 miles of beautiful mountain trail and between 5700 and 7000 ft. of elevation gain, depending on who you ask. I have wanted to give this one a go for awhile now, and though I was excited about the journey ahead of me, I was also a bit concerned about how I would fare at this distance. The last time I ran a comparable distance was in February. Yet the time had come to give it a go since pacing at the Hardrock 100 was looming on the horizon.
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| Yeah, this'll do. |
With a cache of VFuel in tow, I hit the trail a little after 10:00 AM. Not knowing how I would hold up on this route, I kept the pace slow and focused on keeping my heart rate low and conserving energy. I decided on taking the loop counterclockwise, and the Beaver Creek trail was a nice way to start, a steady but not too demanding uphill climb to the intersection with the Mt. Audubon trail. Things were looking good, even if my knee and Achilles tendon issues were dogging me...not like Dobermans, though...more like agitated chihuahuas. At the intersection with the Mt. Audubon trail, the Beaver Creek trail proceeds to drop steadily as it heads to Buchanan Pass. Here began patches of snow...and then more snow...and then snowfield after stupid snowfield. Neat. I'm glad the snow's still around for the sake of water supply, but honestly, I want to punch snow right in its smug face. It's basically July, snow. I don't mind if you're here and there, but you' were everywhere on that trail, and your ubiquity is offensive. I eventually lost the trail and proceeded to bloody my knuckles on what I assumed was this particular snowfield's midsection. "Work the body," I heard my boxing coach say. "This is good training," I thought. "Apollo Creed will never know what hit him!" Oh, also, I later realized that my anger at the snow-induced hallucinations. Pfsh...lucky you for you, Apollo.
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| Paiute Peak from Mt. Audubon |
But truly, I was angry: at the conditions, at my injuries (and thus at myself for causing them), and at God. Admittedly, it was a very petty anger, at least ostensibly. But as I reflected on it later, these were only symptoms of the deeper issue: I was angry at my helplessness and inadequacy. As I've come to realize over the years, it's comparatively easy for me to respond affirmatively to Christ in the "big" things. "You're inviting me to uproot my life and follow You to some unknown land, Jesus? Sure!" It is in the "small" things, in the day-to-day activities and struggles of life, that I falter and fume. In part, I think this is due to the fact that the area of the small things is where I imagine I am self-possessed, in control. Here I like to pretend I'm God, independent and in need of no one, not even Him whom I love. So when the little things start to go counter to my view of how they should be, the bubble is punctured and I am confronted with my ugly helplessness, my utter inadequacy. So I get pissed at snow. But the repeated revelation of my helplessness is not to be a discouragement, an instrument of despair. Rather, it is grace and mercy, for it is an invitation to trust in His love for me, to trust that recognizing and accepting my helplessness is the means to more fully receiving His all-consuming love. Jesus walked the path of dependence and helplessness all the way to the cross, and in doing so saved the world. If He's calling me and everyone else to follow Him in this, I can't imagine that the result will be anything less than wonderful albeit difficult and painful for a time. This is going to take awhile to learn.
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| Forget-me-nots |
So what does this mean in the context of a wilderness outing? For me, it meant shaking off the "woe-is-me" and going to do two thirteeners (Audubon and Paiute) instead. But snow, you're not off the hook.
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| Paiute Peak over my right shoulder |
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| Looking southwest from atop Mt. Audubon |
