A few days ago we took our first “big” hike as a family. 3.2 km uphill (and 3.2 km downhill on the way back), winding through the Icelandic mountains to reach a geothermal river nestled in the valley. When we parked our rental Dasia Duster in the parking lot at the head trail, my eyes couldn’t help but spot the steep inclines ahead. Our Ingrid will complain, I thought. Our Ingrid will beg to be carried. Our Ingrid will through herself down on Iceland’s terra firma and refuse to move. Still, we pushed on. Before reaching the first summit of three, I spotted another family with two younger children (ages five and three perhaps). There were tears, yet the children walked on. I spotted an older couple, squatting near a rock on the trailside, resting for a few minute before they pushed on. A 20 year old something trail runner shot past me full force on his climb. On the way down, I turned a corner to find a panting bicyclist staring up, up, up towards the summit, take a deep breath, and then remount. He, like us all, that morning, determined to meet our goal — a dip in the geothermal river.
And, as for us: we panted. We took a few breaks. We taught the children how to take long low strides up the hill, knees bent. They practiced. And laughed. I reminded everyone to breath in through their nose and out through their month. A tip I was taught in seventh grade by my cross country coach, Mr. Seifert. The girls and I voted on the best, “As you Wish” hill, ever changing the classification of “best” as we went. It took us an hour to reach the river. Along the way, we learned how to move as a family again in a strange new landscape at the start of what promises to be a strange new year.
Nature hiking, for me, creates a stillness while moving effect. My mind calms while my body takes up the simple task of placing one foot in front of the other. When stressed, I find a few solid hours walking in nature, really helps me reorient my wellbeing. Science agrees.
28520 Miles 