Some Mountains Are Annoying

There is a mountain in the Phoenix area that likes to kick my butt. It laughs at me when I think I am in shape, just because I can jog around my neighborhood or put in some miles at the gym. This mountain always tells me the truth.

Which is why I find Camelback Mountain annoying.

Camelback attracts hikers of all experience levels with its scenic views and beautiful sandstone rock formations. Both tourists and locals test their skill on the popular Summit Trail that winds its way to the top in a continual steep grade. The trail has an elevation gain of 1264 feet in 1.2 miles.

There are sections of trail that consist of boulder climbing. And other areas with iron bars embedded in the rock to help hikers over steep sections. It's a good workout.

Since finishing cancer treatment, I have not enjoyed hiking Camelback. I have felt like the mountain has conquered me rather than the other way around. I was beginning to think I had sustained lung damage during radiation because of my struggle with the mountain, but my doctor assured me that was not the case. The physical and psychological effects of cancer were just lasting longer than I anticipated.

I needed to give my body time.

Sigh. It was very discouraging, since I was used to maintaining a healthy level of fitness. How much time would I need? After all, I finished treatment over a year ago.

Last week Kevin and I decided to climb Camelback again because of an event we are doing in February (more on that in a future blog.)  I decided to keep a steady pace and I didn't try to hurry. My goal was to make it to the summit without having to stop and rest - my heart has a strange way of trying to pump out my eyeballs when I climb Camelback. Very unpleasant.

Faster hikers passed me as I climbed steadily up the mountain, but I was not discouraged. I got to the top without breaking any personal records, but for the first time in 18 months since my breast cancer diagnosis, I was at the summit, and I felt GOOD.

And then I ran most of the way down. Just because I could.

As my feet flew down that mountain, something inside me soared. I knew I had recaptured something that cancer had tried to steal from me.

And that felt better than good. That felt GREAT.