A Slow and Steady Uphill Climb

Sequoia National Forest

I have never climbed a mountain. Never trekked uphill through rocky terrain and thinning air to have my efforts rewarded by the breathtaking view of the valley below. I've hit the trails, hiking uphill and down and winding around. I've backpacked along some rugged paths in Rocky Mountain National Park. But I've never dared to even attempt to reach the summit of anything higher than one of Nebraska's rolling hills.

We drove the minivan to the top of Pike's Peak once. Another time I rode a tram to the top of a mountain in Estes Park. The views from both were spectacular. But getting there was all too easy.

I'm certain that scaling a mountain on my own two feet would be anything but easy. I imagine that the climb would be slow. That there would be times when I felt like I wasn't making any progress. That I might stumble and fall and end up a little bit bruised. That there would be times when I felt like giving up and turning back. Perhaps there would be moments when I'd wish I'd been more prepared. When I'd ask myself, "Why didn't I realize it would be this hard?"

But I would remember my goal, and I would keep going.

What would it be like to reach the summit? I picture myself standing there, winded and worn, yet raising my arms in triumph as I gaze at the trees and hills and rivers far below. "I made it," I would whisper.

That's how I feel now, as I stand on the summit of Mt. My-First-Book. Getting to where I am now, with WHAT ABOUT MOOSE? due to hit the stores in less than a month, has been a slow and steady uphill climb. But now that the journey to this particular mountaintop is over, I can take in the view. Behind me I see evidence of the arduous journey. Around me I see the people in my life who helped to make this possible.

And in the distance, I see other mountains to climb.