A Walk or a Hike?

 I just wanted to let you know that my husband and I completed a 3.25-mile hike on the Peewah Trail at Trail of Tears State Park. My husband said that it would be impressive and I could tell everyone about my accomplishment. If you are not duly impressed, I better let you know the rest of the story.

Ron and I enjoy taking walks, usually in the neighborhood, sometimes when we are out of town. We recently took a couple of days off for our anniversary and drove to Cape Girardeau, MO. We knew that there were a couple of state parks with some hiking trails in the area and we thought that walking a mile or so along one of these trails would be a good way to enjoy an hour or two together. We went to the Visitor's Center at the park and got a map of the trails. I should have worried when I asked her how hard the trail was and she replied that we should be able to do it since we were wearing hiking shoes. As she described that there were some hills and tree roots I should have been listening better. She gave us a trail map that Ron stuck in his pocket.

So we drove to the trailhead and grabbed the 1/2 filled water bottle that was in the car. (We had left the cooler at the hotel.) Despite the weather report calling for rain, we started out with the sun shining and the temperatures in the mid-seventies. We went up and down the first couple of hills and they were a little steep. Ron said it was about the same as the hill leading to our house, I reminded him that the road to our house is paved and isn't 3.25 miles. He also on every uphill shouted out that downhill can be harder than uphill. I responded only when you have sore knees, and that is not a problem for either of us. 

The views of the Mississippi River were fantastic and the autumn leaves were stunning as we ambled along. The temperature was creeping up and the hills were starting to feel steeper. Ron pulled out the map and we realized we had not even gotten even halfway along the loop. I finally looked at the map and realized that those topographic lines that show you how steep the hills are were very close together and there was a whole lot of them. I was kind of watching the clock and figured that walking on pavement we should do about three miles an hour, so a casual walk on a path should be maybe twice that? About this point, the walk became a hike and was less enjoyable as I started thinking about how tired and out of breath I was becoming. I was also getting jealous of my husband, who is a good five years older than me, moving at a pretty quick clip and wearing a dress shirt and khakis. Every time I stopped to catch my breath, he would be concerned but confused. I started having "what if" thoughts about possible illness or accident way out in the middle of nowhere and no way to get rescued. It didn't help any when Ron decided it would be a good idea to spread out about ten feet so if one of us falls, we don't knock down the other one. I definitely was not enjoying this chore of finishing the hike at this point.

We kept tramping along, got off the trail by about 100 feet once, and had to stop to figure out where the trail went three or four times. I did trip and fall one time and threatened Ron with his life when he started to pull out his phone to take a picture. Eventually, after almost two hours we figured out where we were on the map and I felt better knowing that we were heading back toward the trailhead. About this time I also noticed that the breeze was getting cold and damp and there was a faint sound of thunder in the distance. Thinking about the impending rainstorm just made us move a little faster.

We got back to our car after two hours and fifty minutes. I looked at the sign and besides listing all the hazards of the trail, it gave a suggested time to plan for the trip. 3.5 hours. I just looked at the sign, then at Ron, and then back at the sign. We had just basically sprinted around that trail! I had not enjoyed the hike because I thought that I was lazy and out of shape when we could have stopped many more times and still been typical hikers. Ron is almost a foot taller than me and his legs are much longer so he was taking fewer steps. Also, my ego wouldn't let me admit that he is just better than me at long walks, probably genetically. 

Yes, we will go hiking again. No, I will not feel guilty about setting a slower pace. I will definitely plan better, bringing enough water and looking at the map more carefully. I will try to be less competitive and just enjoy the moment.

Why a Pickle Jar?

I am starting this blog with the intention of writing about being Catholic and being part of a family.

So what's with the pickle jar?

Since I am a newbie as far as blogging,I found out that picking a name for a blog is a little tricky. Since there are many, many other sites on the Internet, I needed to come up with a name that is unique and creative. So the first twenty or so ideas I had were not going to work. The story about my sister and the pickle jar is one of my favorites and shows some of the quirkiness of my family.

Back when my sister was pregnant and the mother or two preschoolers, we were talking at a family gathering about getting basic things like shopping done when you are very pregnant and also have kids in tow. She said that someone told her to put a jar of pickles in your grocery cart and if your water breaks to drop the jar on the floor. That comment perplexed my brother who, at the time, had not experienced being a parent. He had all kinds of questions like do you actually buy the pickles or keep returning them at the last minute, what if you are at a store that doesn't sell pickles, and what are you going to do with three or four jars of pickles? Even now I can visualize my sister's kitchen with a whole shelf of pickles.

So how does this tie in with my theme?

Making a mess to cover up a mess is wrong but very human. We lie to cover up a lie, we hurt others when we feel hurt by them, even abortion is done to cover up a messy situation. We find it very hard to let go of our misguided plans and put that jar back on the shelf and find ourselves stocking up on negative solutions to problems.

God will give us a better solution to our problems if we just ask; just as the store manager doesn't want to keep returning jars to the store shelves or clean up broken glass.

I want to share with you some of my experiences with my faith and my family. Some are silly, some serious and some that remind me of my humanity. 

So keep checking in and I will tell you some of my thoughts on being a Catholic parent and family member. (and about my quirky family.)