The long climb

Avid trail runners are a different breed than your typical road runner.  For the trail runner the run is about the journey, the sensory experience, the spontaneity of the adventure.  The pavement pounder enjoys the comfort of the routine, the objectivity of the measured mile, the safety of the improved path.

Life may be a marathon, but it's definitely a trail run.  Twisty, unpredictable, and dangerous.  Soul-crushing climbs yielding to vistas that can refresh burning lungs and wobbly legs.

On the trail my kids love leading, getting out ahead farther, until parental fear overtakes the sense of freedom, and I yell to them to stop and wait.  Someday they won't stop.  On that day, their confidence and bravery will overtake their sense of fear and they will be gone, out of sight.  Beyond protection.  Maybe I'll meet them at the top.  Maybe I'll catch up to them.  But either way, they will need to negotiate the path by themselves.

They will have trained for that day and they'll think themselves ready for this trail marathon.  But there's no map, no route.  The aid stations are few and the crowd support is minimal.  I want to give them the strength and confidence to find a way, or make one.  To lead.  To succeed.  To earn the vista.  If they fall or quit, it will be their mistake, their failure.  But it will be mine too.

Hug 'em if you got 'em.