Essay: Adjusting expectations of myself
How do we continue to pursue our passions when our bodies aren't holding up their end of the deal?
It is not an easy thing to admit that I struggle to do some of the things that used to come more easily, such as trudging (I mean hiking) through the snow for numerous miles. Thus I found myself this weekend, struggling to keep up with a group of younger and fitter hikers.
After the first mile, I thought, “I need to fix this,” and so I told them I was going to hike my own hike, take all the pictures I wanted, and meet them back at the bunkhouse later. It was for the good of us all. I had hiked this park often enough to be familiar with the trails, I had my first aid kit, an emergency bivy, and a Garmin InReach device in case anything went wrong. The notion of meandering along at my own pace filled me with joy.
After developing some asthma-like symptoms after contracting Covid a couple of years ago, I have had to adjust my expectations of myself. Cold air, bad air quality, and other asthma-triggers sometimes catch me off-guard. My lungs just don’t work as well as they once did. It has been quite humbling to train for trips and then discover that I am still not able to perform like I have in the past. Since I cannot out-train bad lungs, I need to change my approach—slowing down and savoring the hike. The hardest thing about this has been missing out on time with my faster friends. Often they do slow down for me, which I appreciate, but it isn’t always realistic, and I don’t want to make them feel as though they must. Planning trips a little differently, adjusting my expectations of myself, and letting people know about my limitations are all necessary.
So on this particular weekend, after I decided to part from the rest of the group, I spent several glorious hours taking photos, and then wandered back to the bunkhouse, where I stoked the fire, changed into fresh clothes, and enjoyed my book for a couple hours before my friends returned. I hiked about six miles in total, while they got in twelve. But, I still got to enjoy their companionship as we went out to dinner, played cards, and discussed past and future adventures. And, I had all the time I wanted to fiddle with my camera and linger over interesting views. I think that in the future, I’ll also bring my mini-keyboard so that I can write and save my musings to my phone. Maybe I’ll bring my hammock for impromptu naps. Perhaps what I miss in miles, I will make up for in images, essays, and peace.
Thank you for this post. I was an active backpacker and hiker for many years but now at 73 I simply need to go more slowly. As I tend to hike with younger folk and camp with younger folk, I’m working to come up with ways to continue on terms that are realistic.
Jill--
I liked this essay. Your thoughts contain wisdom and acceptance. Many of the changes you refer to are similar to those we face for simply getting old. We who are approaching the big 80--unbelievable!--can attest to having to slow down, give up certain experiences, and generally accept that an almost 80-year-old body is not the same as one at 40 or 50 or even 60. This is the acceptance that is needed--but we have to do it within a culture that fetishizes youth and vigor. In a better culture (sorry, U.S.A., but it's true), old age would be looked at a lot more sympathetically and even with reverence. We've made it this far. We've learned a lot. We have wisdom to impart. Despite some occasional lip-service, old age is not looked at this way here. Anyway--a good essay with an important message for all.