Banishing the Can't

Wow, I spent more than a week without internet access and missed two weeks of posts, sorry guys!

I've been in Alaska for a week, and some of you have heard all about my hike from hell. Now, I'm a curvy girl, but I've never really considered myself inactive. I go on hikes, and it's not a big deal to do 5 miles or so. I just prefer not to go for severe elevation climbs, and I'm careful of the terrain due to an old knee injury. But, I was visiting a friend whom I've known since we were in kindergarten, and he's not exactly a health nut either, so I didn't really think to question what I was getting myself into when he suggested that we hike into the backcountry.

Now, the first mile was heavenly. Beautiful, just like you'd expect Alaska to be. Hiking's a little different when you have the extra weight of a rifle on your shoulder (have to watch out for the bears, you know!), but it was still wonderful. Mile two was...well...challenging. We went from trail to boardwalk (and by boardwalk, I literally mean a board about 16" wide, laying across the soggy ground), ICY boardwalk, across a soggy, marshy, series of meadows. I was freaked out. I'm not even going to lie, I was terrified of slipping and falling into the water and freezing. But, I did it, and I was so proud of myself for overcoming my fear that I kept right on trekkiing another mile into horrible, uphill, narrow, rocky sludge that only marginally qualified as a trail.

And then I fell. Completely rolled my left ankle on a nasty, rocky hillside. I could feel it was swelling inside of my boot, but I just didn't want to stop. My friend knew that I was hurt, and asked at several points if I wanted to turn back, but I didn't want to. I was so proud that I'd made it this far, climbing uphill, on horrible terrain, and I didn't want to give up, knowing what I could have done. I had my friend relace my boot for me (super-tight to hold in the swelling) and I moved onward. 


Now, here's the deal. I know how to hike. I know the rules. I know that you pack food, water, and the 10 Essentials with you whenever you go out. But, I was in another state without my gear, and I didn't know where we were heading, so when I saw my friend leaving out without a pack or anything, I figured we were going out on a little day trip, basic public trail, nothing to worry about. I couldn't have been more wrong.

The sun started to set at about mile 3.5...did I mention this was a 7 mile hike? And all those treacherous icy paths I'd come across now had to be recrossed...in the dark? With zero light? Or water? Or food? With a swollen ankle screaming at me with every twist and turn of the wretched trail?

The only light we had between us was my cellphone, which I always keep on me when I remember it. (Call me morbid, but I know that the GPS in my phone can act as a locator, even if I have no cell service, and if I'm in trouble, I want someone knowing where I'm at. ) I was sobbing, in pain, and angry as hell, and nearly passed out when we finally made our way off the hill and go to the truck. It was, overall, a horrific nightmare.

Okay, okay, I hear you now "this is Twitter to get Fitter, where the heck is the fitter part of your rambling"?I'm getting there, I promise.

The whole experience was the worst thing I'd been through in a long time. I was honestly worried that we weren't going to get out of there that night, that I would be hurt beyond what I could walk on and rescue wouldn't be able to make it in... If there had been an option to sit down and wait for someone to come help, I would have leaped at the chance. If there were an option to do anything other than continue hiking in the dark, wounded and sobbing, I would have done it. But there wasn't. I had no choice, so I kept on going.

And I learned something in the process. I am capable of so much more than I had thought.

How many times have I sat down in Zumba, because I was too tired and "needed a break"? How many times did I cut short a walk or hike with Vegas because I wasn't "feeling up to it"? How many times have I sold myself short when in actuality, I had it in me all along?

How many times do we tell ourselves we CAN'T do something when what we really mean is 'I don't want to'? I can't work out today, I'm too tired. I can't cook a meal at home, I don't have the time. I can't take the dog for a walk, I have to do laundry. I'm guilty of every one of these, and more. I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one.

This week, I'm going to be focusing on all the times where I sell myself short and don't give myself a chance to do more. I'm going to focus on every time I say that I can't, when what I really mean is 'I don't want to'. And then I'm going to make myself get up and do it anyway. 'Can't' is a word that is far too overused in my world. I plan on changing that.

Thoughts?