During our road trip to Alaska, we passed through countless miles of beautiful terrain. The mountains were simply gorgeous, and when I wasn’t driving, I spent long moments examining the rough rock, the lush forests, the snow capped peaks, and always the same questions came to mind.
Why am I so attracted to these mammoth hills? Why do I feel drawn to move up them? I look at a mountain like the one pictured above, which happens to be near out new home, and my first thought is to just take a walk and climb to the top.
Physically, I know it’s unlikely that I could just walk to the summit. The years have decreased my strength prowess and I never really was a mountain climber. I’ve done some climbing walls, but the first “real” trek I attempted was at the age of 60. I climbed to 13,300 feet of a 14er and when I reached a very large boulder field, I knew I had found my personal summit for that day.
And yet, I am continually drawn to the mountains. Their height, their strength, their majesty speaks to me. I have decided that while in Alaska and I have access to climbing possibilities right in my back yard, I am going to condition myself to climb as high as possible while I can. And even if my body doesn’t cooperate, I will visualize myself standing on each peak, touching the heavens and surveying the entire Universe.