Inclination

I will admit that I can’t watch the Reverend Mother sing “Climb Every Mountain” to Julie Andrews without crying. This is only true for my adult tear ducts. I thought her song mimicked one of those warbling bird-shaped water whistles when I was a critical youngster.

Stately and wise in her old age, I love Reverend Mother’s classy wrinkles and the yellow leaded-glass window behind her singing profile. Every time the scene ends my Grinch heart grows three sizes and I silently scream to myself empowering phrases like, “I can ford streams! I love chasing rainbows! I AM NOT AFRAID OF CLIMBING ALL THE WAY TO SWITZERLAND!”

Last year we went to the West Valley Hale Center’s production of The Sound of Music. I’m not going to lie, I was distracted with the cast since Maria had a long, black ponytail and Captain Von Trapp was played by the same man that played Lemuel in a church DVD we own. “Climb Every Mountain” came along with its amateur delivery and still managed to crack my crusty shell with its last note. I rubbed my goose bumps and tried to conceal my sniffs and eye-wiping during the thunderous applause. Gets. Me. Every. Time.

Days following the play I got amped about mountain climbing. I hiked Ensign Peak with my FNDN and the next day I hiked the G with RE. Then I decided I would time myself running the short 1-mile hike to Battlecreek Falls every day for a month to see how fast I could get after 30 tries. I only made it four tries, although I shaved seven minutes off my original time. The problem wasn’t the ascending altitude. My issues were with coming back down.

I suspect my patellas are attached to my frame with dental floss. I don’t know why but I was blessed with a body that takes a beating down hills. My physical form simply cannot handle the force and impact and shock that downhill relaxation offers. I am literally made for climbing.

This got me thinking about something my marathon-running hero Elaine Dalton said on a radio interview. She and her husband were enjoying an evening run. They hit a large hill and shortly thereafter her husband was way ahead of her. Still competitive enough for it to bother her she turned to quit and called out, “I’ll just meet you at the car when you’re finished.” He instantly pulled a 180, ran back to her and said,

Don’t you know you never make a decision to turn around when you’re in the middle of a hill?

She clarified this was advice for real life as well as real running. Don’t make decisions when you are clawing your way up a hill. Uphills are stressful enough and don’t mesh well with clear thinking. You must postpone critical decisions until life levels out.

I remember thinking about this story in February when Greg told me he was ready to try IVF again. I was such a mess I couldn’t even contemplate calling my doctor, much less visit him in person. My body was still revolting against all we had done to it. I was in a state of mental torture for months trying to figure out what to do next. I did not know if I could get through it. Turning around to quit was a tempting option. It was such a relief to remember Elaine's husband and that I didn't have to make any decisions until I reached the top of the hill. So I kept climbing, albeit inches per day.

I have FINALLY reached the top of that hill. Phew. That was exhausting. I never want to climb that slippery slope again. I knew the grade had leveled out because I could breathe again and see for miles. Guess what the clarity at the top of the hill revealed to me? Another mountain. Yep. More climbing. It’s okay. My kneecaps are psyched. They love inclines. I am so thankful to have an answer and a direction, even if it means more ascents.

This new Everest will take about four months to climb and after that there will be a Two Month Mound. At that point, I am predicting I will have hit Rainbow Elevation and my dreams will be within snatching distance.

I'M CLOSER THAN I WAS ONE HILL AGO and that is progress that the cramp in my side can prove.

I'LL BE EVEN CLOSER IN TWO MORE MOUNTAINS and the hopeful chamber of my heavily-beating heart thinks it can handle a few more hikes.

DON’T TURN AROUND ON HARD HILLS. YOU WERE MADE TO CLIMB MOUNTAINS.

*More mountain climbing lyrics:

And there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears.

And love will not break your heart but dismiss your fears.

Get over your hill and see what you find there,

With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair.

-Mumford & Sons, "After the Storm"