The milestone that marks today is bigger, bolder, and more thrilling than the many others I've passed in recent years. At this time two weeks from now, I will have said my final goodbyes to cherished colleagues and carried the last box of accumulated office paraphernalia off the Eastern Washington University campus. I am changing jobs after 15 years.
But that's only the half of it! At this time one month from now, Molly and I will be drifting to sleep under the stars, on a ledge in the Grand Canyon. It will be the end of our first day of hiking from the North Rim to the South Rim. We'll have traveled a little over six miles into the canyon, downhill the whole day, and still only halfway to the base where the Colorado River carves through ancient sandstone.
With 35 pounds of clothes, food, water and camping supplies strapped to our backs, it will be slow going. But the more I imagine our four days in the canyon, the more I imagine we'll slow our pace not so much because of the arduousness, rather because of the sheer awesomeness. In recent training hikes, walks, and short jogs, I've visualized myself on the trail, knowing I need to keep careful track of my feet on the uneven ground, but wanting instead to drink in the views like I will the three liters of water stored in a Camelbak, and replenished partway through the day.
There will be moments of such extreme thirst, I'll want to take it all in at once. But I will know moderation is paramount in these circumstances. The canyon, like the hydration, is best sipped in small amounts. Focusing on what is close by, seeing the details of my immediate surroundings, indeed being mindful of each moment, in the end will mean I have seen more of the canyon's grandness than I ever could by gulping great sweeping views.
But that's only the half of it! At this time one month from now, Molly and I will be drifting to sleep under the stars, on a ledge in the Grand Canyon. It will be the end of our first day of hiking from the North Rim to the South Rim. We'll have traveled a little over six miles into the canyon, downhill the whole day, and still only halfway to the base where the Colorado River carves through ancient sandstone.
With 35 pounds of clothes, food, water and camping supplies strapped to our backs, it will be slow going. But the more I imagine our four days in the canyon, the more I imagine we'll slow our pace not so much because of the arduousness, rather because of the sheer awesomeness. In recent training hikes, walks, and short jogs, I've visualized myself on the trail, knowing I need to keep careful track of my feet on the uneven ground, but wanting instead to drink in the views like I will the three liters of water stored in a Camelbak, and replenished partway through the day.
There will be moments of such extreme thirst, I'll want to take it all in at once. But I will know moderation is paramount in these circumstances. The canyon, like the hydration, is best sipped in small amounts. Focusing on what is close by, seeing the details of my immediate surroundings, indeed being mindful of each moment, in the end will mean I have seen more of the canyon's grandness than I ever could by gulping great sweeping views.
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