Ditching the To-Dos

This morning, after my three children had their lunchboxes in hand, knew I loved them, hopped out at carpool, I drove to the mountains. It was 8:09 AM. I had exactly six hours and 51 minutes before I needed to be back. My yellow lab Sunny knew what was up. She saw my backpack and hiking boots. She heard as I grabbed a scoop of food for her and put it next to my baked sandwich. She eyed me as we and wagged her tail turned right towards I-5.

That's me! No to do list in my hand!

Usually Sunny and I meet my friend Zoe, whose  old, big, great dog Ozzie taught Sunny how to be a good trail dog with us. But back in May, Ozzie barely made it up to strenuous Mailbox Peak; she had to lay down and rest on the hike back down, and Zoe and I carried her the last mile. She weighs almost 80 pounds, and we barely made it back before pick up time. But it's Zoe's pace that I love the most, and it's her swearing and laughter and sharp observations that pair so perfectly with a good hike. Zoe and Ozzie hop in my Suburban right after morning drop off, so I get an extra two hours with her.

Other times I meet my friend Jamie, who has never brought her her goofy young retriever, and it's wise to leave behind her flat-faced, not-so-nice French bulldog. But I'm happy to hike just with her, listening to her stories of Ironman and Mont Blanc and the regular ups and downs of a long marriage. Jamie's pace is excellent, too, though we pause from sweaty ascents to snap photos of waterfalls or neat bridges or beautiful, Evergreen covered paths that show us the way.

Every now and then it's just me and Sunny. I know that bears and cougars and unkind people exist out there, not that we've run into any of them. When we hike alone we stick to popular trails and I tell my husband where I am, when I leave, and when I return. But I can go my own pace--a steady, strong "Ranger walk," like my dad used to when I hiked with him. I don't take breaks and I don't slow down; my thoughts wander and I breathe in the smell of fresh rain and pine trees. I always have to laugh at how fast I get to the top.

Sunny at Lake Serene

I trained for and ran marathons for years. When my children were born, I did P90X in our basement before they woke up. I switched to Crossfit when they could stay with a sitter and I've been doing that for years. But hiking feels different. There's no one else pushing me. I'm outside in nature, with another like-minded woman nearby, connecting with just one person. I'm smiling as my dog turns into a mountain goat and does twice my mileage and has an even bigger smile on her face. I leave my to-do list at home and hardly move my phone from my pocket. This feels so very devious! Like I'm skipping work...even though, as a stay-at-home mom, I don't work in the way most do.

I pay attention to time only because I need to get back to school by 3, with a tired and muddy pup, to pick up my kids. We all return home--to normalcy, to the to-do list, to a much-needed shower. My body is tired but my heart is happy, and I can continue with all my stay-at-home mom stuff with more humor and good stories. When they tumble back into my car at the end of the day, loud and loose after being on their best behavior for hours, they ask me, "How was your hike? Where'd you go?" and they ask when they can go, too.

In time, they'll come with me. One of these days, maybe I'll let one of them skip school and head to the mountains with me--they'll know how good it feels. Just a little bit naughty, but very good for the soul.

I Need to Read Less

You are probably carving pumpkins or daydreaming about Thanksgiving menus, or maybe you're simply brushing off the dust your favorite pair of Fall boots. Not me. I'm looking to January 1st. I'm already thinking about New Years and New Years Resolutions. This year, one of my goals is going to be to read less.

You read that right. I need to read less.

For the past four years, one of my New Year's resolutions is to read 100 books a year. That sort of reading takes commitment and discipline. I've got both of those of those in spades. Plus, I've discovered the Overdrive app and have the ability to check out audiobooks from my library and listen to them on my phone.

I don't work outside the home, so most household chores fall to me. I pack lunches while my family sleeps, listening to Harbor Me by Jacqueline Woodsen (the interview by her ten year old son after the book is charming!). I fold clothes and sweep while listening to Grant by Ron Chernow. My yellow lab is well-walked; she sniffs the leaves and sidewalks in Edmonds while I listen and chuckle to Yes Please by Amy Poehler.  My three children are involved in activities that require longer drives, so sometimes while they read books in the backseat, I sneak one earbud in and listen to Far From the Tree by Andrew Solomon. At night I pull out an actual physical book; right now I am reading Annie Dillard's The Abundance: Narrative Essays Old and New before sleeping.

I've always been a big reader, but after having three children I realized that books were an escape for me, and it's a rather cheap, easy escape. When my marriage hit turbulence and Depression pulled a gray blanket of sad over me, I dove into books.

When my own story was too difficult to face, escaping into other people's stories was easier. I used other authors' words to replace or maybe just push out the thoughts in my head. To block out memories of easier days. To shoo away the pesky "what if's" that buzzed in my brain like hungry mosquitoes. I drowned out the scary silence and everything else with books. I read at night to replace any last thoughts with someone else's story because my own was close and complicated and exhausting.

Three years and over 400 books later, I'm glancing up from my pages and taking my earbuds out to see myself and my habit. My reading has become a bit obsessive. Once it was helpful; now it is not. I need to decrease other people's sentences in my head and replace them with my own musings, thoughts, and reflections. I need to create some space to wonder, ruminate, and think.

I have to think about this three months in advance, because who says you have to change overnight? I like to plan ahead. I don't want my own thoughts to scare the shit out of me...I don't want this new resolution to be anything like a polar plunge into the quiet of my mind. Plus, with 76 books read this year and 24 more to go, I can't break the habit before reaching that goal I set for myself ten months ago!