To celebrate our 20th anniversary and my recent graduation, my sweet handsome hunny planned a getaway to a nearby state park. He pulled out all the stops and spared no expense for my enjoyment. He rented a cabin with a hot tub, planned a fantastic day hike, even arranged for a couple’s massage at the cabin. After a frustrating start to the week with a power outage at the cabin due to a string of storms that ravaged the area, flooding the driveway to the cabin and felling a tree across the most direct route to the main road, the week improved markedly. Even on the rainiest day, we settled in to relax with a movie marathon.
Though, when the rain broke that day, I did suggest checking out a nearby state nature preserve. Spending a lazy day lounging on the couch with the love of my life does wonders for the spirit, but the hips get stiff and creaky, and I knew I needed to move a little or I would regret it in the morning. My husband was up for it, so we took a short drive to check out Conkles Hollow State Nature Preserve. Looking at the map, we saw that there were 2 trails available at the preserve. One was a short 1/2 mile out and back again "gorge trail". The second was a 2.5 mile loop "rim trail". Considering that I had spent the majority of the day sitting, proven by my fitbit woefully stating a mere 600+ steps for the day, I suggested the longer trail, thinking 2.5 miles really wasn't too long and should only take an hour even if we lollygagged.
"Rim trail" is an uncannily appropriate descriptiion. This 2.5 mile trail skims the rim of tree-lined and rocky cliffs. And for city slickers like us, the trail is technically challenging. A fairly steep initial incline leads to an often narrow footpath that seems to be only inches from a 200ft drop and is further complicated by the rocks and tree roots jutting up and criss-crossing the path. There are rocky outcroppings where one can stand and gaze out over miles of tree covered hills in Hocking County. There are areas of shallow water run-off that cross the trail and lead to a small waterfall. Even on this gray day, it was strikingly beautiful. But the fact that it had rained quite a bit over the previous couple of days meant that all ground surfaces were wet and slick or outright muddy, making getting a decent foothold tricky at times.
Personally, I loved it. I walked out on those first few outcroppings to have myself a look at the gorge below and the miles of tree-covered hills sprawled out in front of me. I looked down the crags in the cliffs that cut into the trail. I was enjoying the challenge of the rocky, root stricken terrain. I felt nothing but exhilaration as I took what I calculated to be the surest footing, even if it was only a foot from the rim. Then I noticed my sweet love lagging behind.
At first I thought my quicker pace was due to my better physical condition and agility than his current state. Truth be told, we have both fallen off of the peak-health-pursuit wagon, but he fell longer ago and harder than I. Though I have gained some serious weight while being in school, blaming hours of sitting on my duff studying and stress eating for the packing on of unwanted pounds, I have managed to continue with a regular workout routine. I run, cycle, walk the local nature trails, and cross train. Not only has the love of my life traded a physically active job for one behind a desk, he has not compensated for the change with regular physical activity elsewhere. And let us not forget that the man is a chef by trade. He doesn't know how to cook a bad meal, making it even more challenging at times to behave with the calorie count.
As we trekked along, I began to realize that the real reason for my sweet love's slower pace was anxiety. He was long ago diagnosed with anxiety disorder and has been medicated for it at different times in his life, but is not currently. In 20 years of marriage, it never occurred to me that he would be so uncomfortable about being so close to a 200ft drop off without a barrier. I slowed my pace to more closely match his, asking often if he needed to stop for a moment and if he was going to be ok to finish the hike. He unconvincingly tried to assure me that he would be and we pressed on. As we continued to hike, I mentioned that I would love to bring our teenager out here, that this might be a good short but challenging trail for us to hike together. My husband said he definitely would not be joining us on that hike, that he wouldn't be able to see our son on this trail so close to the edge of a such a steep drop off. That's when it hit me. My love was not only struggling with the anxiety of being in what he perceived to be a situation flirting with death, but he was also struggling with the fear that arose while watching me flit along the edge of a cliff.
Taking this sudden realization into account, I started actively seeking optional paths that were a safer distance from the edge of the rim. Because of the natural layout of the terrain, the further footing was often slightly higher than the path closer to the rim, and frequently more studded with rocks and roots. As I traversed the further footings, I chuckled at a thought that came creeping into my mind ~ the higher road is usually not the easier one, maybe because it is the road less traveled.
In more ways that one, both of us were taking the higher road on that hike. My husband sacrificed his peace of mind, experiencing fear and anxiety on an intense level for a prolonged period, in order to complete that hike with me, knowing how much I wanted to do it. I gave up the adrenaline boost of flitting along the edge of a cliff, fought the desire to venture out onto every outcropping, resisted the urge to look over the side of the cliff where the water was falling, and generally battled every ounce of my risk taking spirit because I knew to continue taking those risks would unhinge the love of my life. By the time we reached the trail's end 90 minutes after we had begun, we had both apologized to each other multiple times ~ he for not being a better hiking partner, I for putting him through such mental anguish. Granted, neither of us had been on this trail before, so how would either of us had known what it would be like? Nonetheless, each felt badly that the other had a less than optimal experience.
Love and sacrifice. My sweet husband loves me enough to battle his inner demons in order to finish that hike with me. I love him enough to battle my own inner demons in order to attempt to ease his burden. He sacrificed in his love for me, and I in my love for him. It's things like this that people need to understand when they ask how we have been able to remain happily married for 20 years.
