Not a cloud in the sky. The mountain air delivered a gentle, but cool breeze to counter the midsummer heat enveloping everything and everyone at lower elevations.
You couldn’t ask for a better day to climb a peak. Given our alpine start of 11:50 a.m., anything less than perfect would have been a deal breaker.
Earlier that morning, relaxing with a hot cup of coffee, the peak looked easy to climb, though not as easy as staying in my camp chair. I estimated two to three hours to get to the top and back down. After all, it’s only five miles round trip with 1,900 feet of elevation gain.
Granted, this will be the kids’ first summit, but they have strong hiking legs and I have a brand new bag of Jolly Ranchers – more than enough to accommodate the “Jolly Rancher a mile” incentive.
The only concern is whether the bag has enough apple and cherry-flavored candies to appease everyone. The will to summit could be thwarted if left with the dreaded grape flavor.
Within a half-mile, the first complaint was unleashed. To emphasize her point and displeasure, our 9-year-old slows her pace to that of a snail. Even with a true alpine start, there aren’t enough hours in the day to crawl to the top. Our goal is moving out of reach.
Like any other proverbial mountain we climb in life, the hardest part is getting started. It’s time for a Jolly Rancher, and you, my dear, get the first pick.
The dietitian in me cautions against rewarding with food, especially candy. The mom in me argues, what’s the harm in one small candy when climbing a mountain?
The instant attitude adjustment reinforces the decision. It’s only natural, when taking on a challenge, we need rewards, a reason to push through the discomfort.
At that moment, the reward was the pleasure of an apple-flavored candy that doubled as a distraction from the steep climb. I wondered, and hoped, that seeing our corner of the world from 12,600 feet would elicit a deeper, internal motivation just as it does for me.
What is intrinsically motivating is unique for each of us. And, it can be hard to imagine what that deep-seated motivation will feel like, or the power it can hold, until we reach the top of our mountain. Until then, it’s the little things.
Halfway there and the tides have turned. My little mountain goat found joy bouncing across the talus of rocks forming the base of the mountain. Funny how the things that once pained us can transition to a source of pleasure. Onward and upward.
Her low center of gravity makes navigating the rock scramble easy. She’s faster than the rest of us, and that fills her with pride.
Something’s clicking. Despite a few false summits, the motivation to continue has taken hold. And, we haven’t had a Jolly Rancher for quite some time.
Alas, the summit is reached. A marmot cheers the girls on for their last few steps to the top. The 360-degree view is breathtaking, but the summit register full of letters and postcards is what captivates the girls. My daughter comments, “This person was tripping all the way to the top. I didn’t fall once.” I think I’ll leave that be.
With certainty, you too are somewhere in this story. You may be contemplating in comfort, or steps from the top. It’s the space in between where you grow. Start your journey by finding your why. In time, you’ll persist not for the candy, but because you love how it makes you feel.
Nicole Clark is director of La Plata County Extension Office. Reach her at nicole.clark@colostate.edu or 382-6461.
