Easy as falling off a log

One of the worst things about gym when I was in high school--apart from those ugly bloomers we had to wear--was the balance beam. I hated the balance beam. I feared the balance beam. Even the one that was only 6 inches off the floor. We had this gym teacher who thought we should all be part of an Olympics gymnastics team. And sneered at me when I would jump off the beam after just a few inches. She quickly relegated me to the sidelines while she focused on the girls who were nimbler and more confident than I. Thankfully, I wasn't alone on the sidelines and after high school I didn't take any other kind of exercise class until i was in my 20s. (Exercise classes in the early 1970s weren't as popular as they are now.) I did attempt a ballet class, fulfilling a childhood wish of taking ballet. But when a friend of mine called me a dancing pear because the only ballet costume available in the store was yellow I lost confidence once again. And then there was yoga, which was so relaxing that I kept falling asleep. But that's a whole other story.

Today, my subject is logs. Specifically, logs and stream crossings. Many of our weekly hikes take us across streams. Remembering my balance beam trauma, I was very hesitant about stream crossings. I would look to find the narrowest part, the one that avoided logs and rocks and where I could just leap across (leaping is also not my forte but preferable to balancing.) Once I acquired hiking poles however I began to be more confident about the crossings. Still cautious, but learning. So when this past Monday's hike promised 12 stream crossings, I wasn't overly worried. We hiked what is called Tesuque Creek, about 7.5 miles round trip. Our leader, Ann, had mapped out a moderate hike, not as steep as Dave's hike the Wednesday before (pictured below.)


And, although it rained a fine mist, the hike was thoroughly enjoyable. I was reminded of hiking at this time last year in Scotland except this time I wasn't hiking alone, I was with a group of very congenial people. All in our 50s--well, actually, the guys were in their 60s--all comfortable with the pace and the company. Yep, I was feeling pretty darned good about my fitness level. After the 9th stream, the woman ahead of me said "We're really getting the hang of this." And, realizing in the back of my mind that I could jinx myself, I still said "Yeah, it's great."

Then came crossing #10, pictured below.


We had actually crossed it before. We were on our way back. We'd stopped to take photos by the rock face. Here I am, not exactly elegant (don't you love the chin strap?) but happy.


I started across the log. Kay was close behind me which Ann and I agreed afterward probably wasn't a good idea. It's best to cross one at a time across a log. I was at the end of the long log, transferring my weight to the short one when the log shifted under my feet and I overbalanced. And fell backward into the shallow stream. Hat and poles went flying. Luckily my backpack broke most of the impact and I only ended up with a bruise on my arm and a slightly sore and wet bottom. We still had another half hour left on the hike so by the time I returned to the car I was pretty well dry thanks to the thin hiking pants I wear. And my pride was bruised a bit too. I always seem to fall or trip on hikes. Never hurt myself but every time it happens I once again feel like that ungainly "dancing pear." Which of course I am not--ungainly that is. I do a LOT of hiking and walking. I may not be tall (I am 5'3") and willowy but I am strong. And I can be elegant too--here's another photo of me in my hiking hat, dressed up this time.


I guess my point is that we are all multi faceted. How we appear can and will change depending on circumstances and we create those circumstances. I laughed off my fall and finished the hike. 7.5 miles in 4 hours is pretty darned good. It certainly felt great. I hiked again the next day--just a short 1 hour--and yesterday I walked along the Arroyos trail for 45 minutes. I love walking, I really do. I feel so happy after I am done. I don't necessarily feel happy when I look at myself critically and self consciously. I mean, I look at that first photo of me and think that the chin strap looks like a double chin and do I look fat and my face looks tired....

Stinking thinking as someone once called it! Did any of my fellow hikers look at me like that?? NO! So I think I need to stop being so darned self conscious. A woman on my hike on Tuesday--a beautiful woman in her mid 60s--said she's stopped looking in the mirror because she can't believe the old woman she sees in there is her. What IS it with us?? I look at her and see a beautiful woman. She looks at me and sees the same. Enough picking ourselves apart already! And enough with obsessing over the scale too. Less obsessing and more focusing on being healthy, eating healthy. And with that, I am off out for another walk....