An Invisible Backpack

Trekking up Garcia Trail, my pace was a bit slower.  In place of a small backpack and a bottle of water was my nearly 40 pound toddler strapped to my back.  I was desperate for some exercise but not so eager to leave the little guy.  I prepared myself by committing to only go as far as I could, one step at a time.

Before long, my chest was heaving, doing its best to provide sufficient oxygen for my screaming legs.  My skin washed with sheets of sweat.  Stopping frequently to rest, the difference between walking and standing, at times felt negligible.

The brutal part was watching others race past me.  Men, women, children, and even a few that categorically could be referred to as "the elderly."

It would have been quite easy to give up except I knew that what I was doing was really hard.  And if I were to forget, there were the countless people who stopped me to commend my efforts.  "You're crazy!!  I can't even imagine trying to do something so difficult."  Even men looked at me with a sense of respect and admiration.

Dragging myself and my son up the trail at a snail's pace left me with plenty of time to reflect.  My mind was struck by the great disparity between my typical hike and the one I now attempted to complete.  My pace was 1/2 of what it normally is, I was twice as sweaty, and my legs felt shaky and lacking in agility.  I stumbled past even small rocks in my path.

As I considered the dramatic differences in effort required to complete the hike, I also considered, isn't it true that we all go through life with a backpack on?  And doesn't this pack have a dramatic impact on the way we travel?  Our pacing, agility, and distance all reflect what's in our pack.

The difference between hiking and life is that, in life, our packs are invisible.  We don't know all of what is in our own pack and we definitely aren't aware of what is contained in the packs of our fellow sojourners. These packs are filled with personal histories, genetic endowment, family background, economic realities, the various relationships we've had...  Some of our experiences add to our agility while others are like boulders in our backpack, slowing our pace  and  compomising our gait.  Alcoholic mothers, caring neighbors, athletic prowess, academic facility, parental conflict, and the list goes on.

I was humbled by my reflections.  How often have a raced past a fellow hiker only to judge their slow pace and awkward form?  Quick to gaze critically at another, I have neglected to even begin to consider their backpack.  They are carrying a pack and perhaps it's a really heavy one.  Maybe what they need more than my judgment is my encouragement and admiration for all that they are accomplishing with such a heavy load.   Maybe the biggest gift that I can give them (and even myself sometimes) is the simple permission to take things one step at a time and an ample dose of encouragement. Way to go!  Keeping doing your best.  And if you need me to lend a helping hand, let me know!  This hike can be really tough!