Gravity Always Wins

There are two that terrify me. First is needles, I cannot watch anything drawn from or being injected into me. I’d fail as a heroin addict. My second greatest fear...heights. This became very apparent when I was about 8 years old and hiked to the Timpanogos Cave with my family. Only a mile and a half hike up a non-strenuous paved trail, yet it felt like an eternity to accomplish. About mid-way up, I looked out into the canyon. Suddenly I felt like I could plummet to my death at any given moment. The vast open view was so overwhelming that I started to cry and continued crying the rest of the hike as I hugged the rock wall. The worst part was each switchback and knowing that I no longer had my precious wall to cling to. I’m sure my parents were already carrying a sibling on their backs, or else I would’ve made them carry me. Miraculously, I made it to the cave. I found complete comfort among the stalactites & stalagmites being tucked inside far from that treacherous drop-off. I was amazed by the incredible things I was seeing all around me, salt & pepper shakers, the shape of a St. Bernard’s head, and the mighty heart of the cave itself. I don’t even remember the walk down, getting in the car, or the drive home.

I went back to Timpanogos in my 20’s, this time to hike to the summit with my friends Sharra and Tony. We started early one summer morning. The weather was beautiful and there were a few mountain goats here & there. By afternoon we reached the summit, a little more than 11,700 feet about sea level. I couldn’t help but notice all the little groups of scub-scouts that made it there before me. I was a strong & healthy 20-something year old and slightly perturbed to find these little buggers had got here first! They must have started the night before.

There were plenty of rocks to secure myself between while we ate lunch. The anxiety didn’t kick in until we started our descent and reached the top of the Timp Glacier. It was July or August, still hot, but the glacier remained a frozen chunk of ice with a thin upper layer of slush. I sat at the top of this steep slope and looked down. What a breathtaking view, especially of Emerald Lake. There is was, an icy cold body of water, waiting to engulf you as you rapidly approach it while sliding down the hill at neck-break speeds.

I sat on my windbreaker tied around my waist, and noticed the squad of booger-miners slide down on their black Hefty garbage bags. Again! Beat by 8 year olds! Then Sharra & Tony took off without hesitation. I watched them glissade down so carefree. Obviously, they had done this before. I continued to sit and contemplated just how long it was take me to hike down the long way. I’m not sure how long I had sat there praying for someone to come up from behind and just shove me on my way, but I finally took a deep breath and went for it. It-was-so-fun! The rest of the hike, or hobble, was interesting, as the inherited arthritis in my knees had fully kicked-in by now. Aside from that, it was a great experience.



Approximately 1998 B.C. (before children), I went backpacking in the Uintas with a few friends/co-workers. We started at the Crystal Lake trailhead and made our way to Wall Lake. Not an exhausting hike, but once we set up camp we knew what needed to happen next. It was August and hot, especially for Uinta temperatures in the early evening.

There are two things you should know about a group of lifeguards:



I'm sure the lake was much,
much lower when I was there.



1) It is futile to expect them to stay out of water.

2) Water-safety rules do not apply to them, or so they think, (e.g. don’t just pack it, wear your jacket, cold can kill, and look before you leap.)



There was the lake, beckoning us to jump in, and not just jump in from the shore, but literally jump in. There’s a good reason why it is named Wall Lake. It was easy to climb up the wall of rocks, forgetting just how high up I had got before realizing I still had to come back down, one way or another. There I was again, like several times before, watching everyone else go first while I stood there, trying my best to muster enough courage to follow and wishing for that push from behind. Then pride stepped up and I finally jumped in. The water was a cold rush and once submerged it felt like my breath was stolen from my lungs, at the same time it was exhilarating.

Recently, I went snowboarding this winter after a 7-year hiatus, with my brother.  It wasn't too long before I got the hang of it again, and Shane was kind enough to let me warm up on the easy runs indicated by the welcoming green circles.  Then push came to shove, just like we were growing up, and he led me down an intermediate/expert trail.  It was so difficult for me to break out of the norm and feel comfortable about it, especially as I passed the blood-splattered snow (not my own, but a previous victim suffering from mid-life crisis) and thought to myself, "What the hell am I doing?"  However, I soon found myself having fun, exhausting, but fun.

I’m thirty-five years old and still afraid of needles and climbing ladders puts my stomach in knots. I don’t expect to overcome my fear of heights entirely, but it has been nice to have it lapse for a few moments. Maybe it’s not actually height itself that I fear, there is some incredible scenery way up there, more so I’m just afraid of the fall. Then again, who isn’t? Don’t expect me to go rock climbing, sky diving, or get a Frisbee off the roof. I’d like to be around for another 35 years and I know my limits.