An Ordinary Odyssey

Last Saturday I set out on what is now my usual training hike, this time headed out to the Lapham Peak Unit of the Kettle Moraine State Forest. I was aiming for 9-10 miles of the hills to continue toughening up my hips, knees, and ankles, and practice with my poles. I’ve been here several times in the past, but only for 6 miles loops, and they kicked my butt, so I knew what I was in for. Lapham Peak is the tallest point in Waukesha County. A whopping 1230 feet, oh my! Haha. Us poor flatlanders!

The hike was just as hilly as I remembered, but not nearly as much of a challenge as it was when I last did it. I ended up doing only 8.2 miles, but according to my Fitbit it was 3114 feet of elevation gain total. I have a little trouble believing this, but it’s not completely unthinkable. I had done a big loop of the hardest trail options at the park, including the Ice Age, Kettle View, and Moraine Ridge trails. At the beginning of the hike I climbed the 45 foot observation tower, and I wrapped it up at the end with 10 climbs. So…..maybe. In any case, I use the stats from my Fitbit to track stats from every hike I do. It’s been fairly consistent when I do repeat hikes, so I think the best I can really do is to go with it. At least the consistent use of one tracking device helps me compare different things I have done and track progress.

In any case, the reason I am writing this post has nothing really to do with my stats. But it does have to do with the tower. The whole time I was climbing, there were two ladies at the top admiring the views. We had chatted briefly, and I pointed out which direction was East towards Lake Michigan and some other local landmarks. They were from out of state and excited to be out enjoying the gorgeous weather. They were also absolutely gobsmacked that I was going up and down this tower multiple times! They said they had had to stop to breathe on the landings and it was crazy what I was doing. On climb 8, one of them asked me why I was doing this because it didn’t look like I was having any fun at all.

You know what? She was absolutely right. I wasn’t having any fun at all at that point.

My hike had been fun. There were some tough spots on particularly steep hills with my 12 pound pack, sure. But overall, it was a gorgeous spring day in a gorgeous stretch of peaceful woods. In my early morning start, I had seen many deer quietly grazing just off the trail and even gotten to spend 15 minutes watching a Pileated Woodpecker go to town on a downed log just a few feet away from me. It had been an absolutely lovely day until I started tower repeats. After 8 miles of hills, tower repeats are the last thing I wanted to do. So why do it?

I told her that I was training for a Grand Canyon Backpacking Trip, so doing stair repeats is a necessary thing to get through. They were appropriately impressed and asked about the details of what I was gonna do. But she still asked me why. Why go through all that trouble when you can see and marvel at the Grand Canyon so easily just by driving to it? She said that she admires people who do big physical things, sure, but just has never understood why people want to push so hard, punish themselves and their bodies, when we live in a modern society that has made it so we don’t have to struggle like that anymore. Why are people constantly making life so hard?! Wouldn’t I rather just do my exercise in the gym to stay healthy and then spend my down time enjoying life? Legit question! I don’t think I gave her a good answer in the moment. But it stuck with me during my last two laps, trek back down to the car, and the whole 45 min drive home.

Why indeed?

I’ve grappled with this before. I’ve had friends who are adamantly not capital “H” Hikers who just like to drive to a viewpoint and look at it, and think I’m crazy for wanting to hike it. I’ve never been able to fully articulate why exactly it feels so different to arrive at a magical place after physical toiling to get there, vs conveniently driving to it. I’ve always found stories of people completing big treks, climbing mountains, winning marathons, crossing the country on bike, or anything else to be inspiring. To me, it is like a pilgrimage of sorts. You arrive at a “holy place” and receive “blessings” there. But that’s only part of it. The journey IS the true purpose. Somehow it just does feel different to commit your body to the effort. To literally give your blood, sweat, and tears to the land before you get the pleasure of seeing it. It’s about discovering who you are and what you are capable of.

This thought is just starting to coalesce in me, more so now that I am training. I don’t have any more deep thoughts than that to share with you at the moment, but I feel like that day is coming soon.

One thing I can share on this topic is a great book I read recently called The Comfort Crisis: Embrace Discomfort to Reclaim Your Wild, Healthy, Happy Self by Michael Easter. It dives into this idea that we’ve engineered struggle out of our lives and, in doing so, have lost touch with something vital. This book outlines scientifically and anecdotally why we need to do the hard things and why choosing discomfort on purpose can actually make us feel more alive. This has always resonated with me too. It’s why I’ve always pushed back against things like Smart everything in a home. It feels like too much comfort to be able to dim the lights, adjust the thermostat, cue up a playlist, open the garage door, and lock the doors. Honestly? Feels like a precursor to humanity in the Wall-E move to me, where humans have become so dependent on technology, automation, and convenience that we devolved physically and completely lost touch with the experiences that make us human.

I want there to be friction in my life. Without friction, you never grow. Without friction, you don’t fully appreciate life. So while it isn’t fun to be doing grueling tower climb repeats, I know that the payoff will be worth every second. I know that it is doing things to and for my body, mind, and soul that will make me a better, happier, stronger, healthier, more fulfilled person. So I do it. Even when it is hard. The journey isn’t just a part of the story to gloss over. It IS the story.