A week ago, I had climbed Mission Peak for the first time in years. I had felt so good about it that I felt like running a bit of the way down. I figured I would run a minute and then walk, but as I hit a stride, I didn't feel the need to stop. Before long, I had run all the way back to my car.
While my knees certainly paid a price for this little foray into unplanned downhill running, I was pretty proud of myself. I have looked to Mission Peak as a barometer for my physical conditioning and hiking up without stopping to rest, and then running back down, was unprecedented for me. While I was proud of that accomplishment, I felt the need to one-up it.
On my drive to work, I decided that I just couldn't bear to spend the day there. My heart just wasn't in it. So after taking care of the pressing business of the day, I took the day off and left at 9:30. By about ten, I was parking at Ohlone College and prepping for my new mission. My goal for today was to hike to the top of Mission Peak, and then to keep on going. I had no idea what to expect, but the great unknown can be a powerful draw.
Almost immediately, I started to wonder if my legs could handle it. After last week's hike, I had been putting in a lot of elliptical work at the gym and had some particularly energetic racquetball games. My legs were aching already, but I was not deterred. As with the previous week's trek, I was determined to make it without stopping.
There were much fewer people on the path than normal, no doubt on account of it being a weekday and the Friday before a major holiday. It was nice to feel some solitude on the trail. The only company I saw was cows, and there was some gaggling from some wild turkeys in the distance. Having done the hike from this staring point before, I was familiar with the route and this made a big difference in the experience. I don't know why exactly, but clearly the second or third time you do something, it feels shorter because you are not constantly wondering how much further it is. Before too long, I had crested the top of Mission Peak. I had come really close to stopping at one point when the outside of my right knee felt like it was going to blow out, but I found that if I shortened my stride, it didn't hurt as much and I was able to keep on chugging along.
At the top of the peak, I saw a couple of other people, but they were engaged in their own conversation, so I paid them no mind. I briefly sat down in order to apply a band-aid to my right heel. My blister from my previous hike had broken and fortunately I had thought to bring some bandages along. At this point, it provided limited relief from the discomfort, but I figured that it would at least prevent it from getting worse.
Continuing on-ward, there was a brief, but welcome, downhill. While my knees felt like blown shock-absorbers at first, they firmed up after a bit and I made my way to the next peak in the chain. I would soon learn that this was Mount Allison. Surprisingly, it even has its own street name and sign.
I paused at the top, just long enough to take a few pictures, something to prove that I had made it. Regrettably, the pictures don't quite capture the moment. They do seem to capture a double-chin though, which means that I have some more work to do. The self-picture was taken on a bench at the top which overlooks the valley below. Since it is engraved, "King of the Mountain", it seemed like an appropriate place to take a picture. Unfortunately, my arms were not long enough to get a picture of myself and the placard on the bench, so you will have to use your imagination.
As my back pressed against the bench, I became keenly aware of how sweaty I was. My shirt was literally soaked through. In my tired mindset, I figured it would be a good idea to take the shirt off and let it dry. The fact that I had not applied sunscreen didn't enter my mind at this point, although it would later. With the sun and wind on my skin, I headed back down the road to the hiking trail.
As I rounded the next corner, I came across a family of cows alongside the path. The mother cow was the first to take note of my presence and she stood up and placed herself between me and her calves. There will be those who disagree, but I see this as no different from a human mother who puts herself in harm's way for the sake of her child. As I got closer and closer, her gaze followed me intently until I had passed and she was sure that I posed no danger. Only then did she lay back down with her children.
More family fun awaited me in the next thicket. The familiar sounds of turkeys were heard prominently and I watched several adult turkeys leading their poults into denser cover beside the path. Several months ago I would not have been able to really appreciate the beauty of this scene, but as I watched it unfold before me, it was a treasure. My experience with Farm Sanctuary has been the equivalent of plugging a long range antenna directly into my brain. I am able to tune in so many more emotions and see a lot more of the wonder in the world that was previously invisible to me. I could never go back to the way I was. It would literally kill me. I only wish that more people could have their switch flipped on like I did. The world would truly be such a better place to live in.
As I made it down the hill, and toward what I was starting to hope would be the trail's end, I saw something that made me a little reluctant to continue. In the middle of the path was a large bull. I have had a lot of experience with male cows at the Farm Sanctuary, but those were known cows and ones that I trusted. Granted, I trusted them initially because they wore collars, but over many months I have grown to trust them for their gentle spirits. Here I was in uncharted territory. How would he react to me coming toward him? For one of the first times of the hike, I was in a spot where there were not any real options for going off trail and I sure couldn't turn back. By now I had been hiking for almost four hours and my water was running out. I decided that my best option was to try to give off positive energy. That feels pretty silly as I write it, but it seemed like as good an idea as any at the moment. My confidence faltered as he stood up and appeared to square off with me. At this point, I had few options left. If he was going to charge, he was less than ten yards away and he would most likely get me. There was really no where for me to run to and I was more likely to twist an ankle going off path than he was. So, I continued toward him, remaining positive, and telling him what a handsome bull he was in the most soothing tones I could muster. As I walked past him on the left, no more than two feet from his wide flank, I felt the fear fall away. He wasn't going to hurt me. Whether it was because he was tired or whether he and I were somehow on the same wavelength I don't know, but I choose to believe the latter. I have developed a good rapport with the animals I have met and I do feel like they can tell that I mean them no harm. In any case, I made my way along the trail without any further events and before I knew it, I was back on rural roadways.
As my trip returned me to reality, I found myself in the presence of some massive homes. In my experience, I could only call them mansions. I could only estimate that these were eight to ten thousand square feet at least, with highly manicured lawns, and all the trimmings. Not that long ago, I would have seen this as something to desire. I even used to buy magazines with these types of houses featured in them, and browse page to page envisioning a day when I may win the lottery and have my choice of these prime dwellings. Now they evoke a completely different reaction in me. As I look at the world's problems, the disparities between the haves and the have-nots on multiple fronts, sickens me. I used to listen to, and believe, the assertions that capitalism was part and parcel of the "American Dream". Today, as I look in utter disgust at these mansions, I realize that even if we were to assume capitalism has merits, it can clearly be perverted. The perversion on display here was brazen. These monuments to avarice say as much about unfettered greed as they do to the ass-&^*%s that live in them. What does it say about the man or woman who looks around them and sees this as the worthy cause for which to spend their money? As far as I can tell, it says one of three things: 1) They are so self-absorbed as to be oblivious to the suffering that surrounds them, 2) They are so self-absorbed that, in spite f the suffering, their selfish pursuits mean more, or 3) Their lives are so damn empty that they look to make them meaningful by building up their image. This is the "American Nightmare". This is what happens when the quest goes awry. As a society, we are creating a generation who sees this as their chief aspiration. Through TV shows like "Cribs", "Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous", and their multiple clones, the media creates an envy and lust that replace charity and goodness in the hearts of the young. The number of shows that highlight kindness and philanthropy are an exception. We reap what we sow. In any case, I am glad that I am no longer on that path.
For now I had my own path to worry about - the long path leading home.
