I Lift My Eyes to the Hills Part 1

A series attempting to explain my obsession with backpacking/mountaineering/all things Sierra-ish

Last weekend I took a Saturday off for the first time since I started working at the gym seven months ago. Working Saturdays has been a drag since week one. I've missed climbing trips, family events, overnight stays with the C's, even camping... You name it, I've missed it. But this time I knew I had to make it happen. The occasion: a dear friend's 21st birthday, and a trip to the Sierras to celebrate.

I've been almost addicted to backpacking, and especially mountaineering, since my first trip three summers ago. This tightwad spent almost $200 on a single piece of equipment after that first excursion, for a royal blue Osprey Ariel 60 backpack. It's my little home on my back, and I love it like a pet. Big enough to carry enough gear for a weekend mountaineering trip or an extended trip in fair weather, it is also small enough to force me to pack light.

Our destination this time was the Cottonwood Lakes area on the south end of the eastern Sierras. I was so busy at work the weeks leading up to the trip, I hardly paid any attention to the details of where we were going or when; all I cared about was that I would soon be breathing alpine air. In our planning emails sent amongst our group of six the idea of summitting Mt. Langley got tossed around briefly. Few experiences have thrilled me more than pushing my body past what I thought it capable of doing and getting to the top of one of those magestic peaks to look down on views too beautiful to take in and feel myself almost literally on top of the world... so I was not opposed, although I didn't know if I was in shape to do my first 14-er, and it was our birthday girl's first-ever backpacking trip.

I got off work Thursday afternoon, looking forward to being away from work for four consecutive days. I was exhausted, and my stop at the gym only beat me down farther instead of giving me extra energy like it usually did.

The rest of the team showed up at our house that evening to pack our gear. Packing my backpack is always the thing that really gets me excited about a trip. The anticipation was starting to build... so I decided to ignore the scratchiness in my throat that was not going away.

Music

A few months ago, shortly after my dad put a CD player in my car (ah bliss… thanks Dad!), I burned five “favorites” CDs from the many hundreds of songs in my iTunes library. Most of the music is imported from family CDs I grew up listening to. It’s all great music… but I’m getting tired of it.

So I’m on a quest to find more.

I recently realized how limited my musical exposure actually is. I listen almost exclusively to the aforementioned family stuff (which includes a lot of instrumental Celtic and bluegrass, a little bit of contemporary Christian, some classical, and some oldies), and modern country (I got very familiar with this genre while working for a lady who played KHAY 24/7 for her rabbits. I took care of her rabbits, hence the familiarity).

One reason for this lack of musical well-roundedness is that I’m a tightwad. I can’t bring myself to spend $15 on a CD that I might not like. Another reason: I’m kinda picky. Few albums contain more than a handful of songs I really enjoy.

I’ve been trying hard lately to broaden my musical horizons. iTunes has helped. I can pick and choose the individual songs I want so that I don’t blow $$ on something I’ll never listen to. And the 30-second clips can give me a fairly good idea if it’s something I’m interested in. The problem is it’s so overwhelming. Too many choices! Where do I start?!

This is where you, dear reader, can help me. If you are so inclined, please comment with a few of your all-time, no-doubt-about-it, love-this-stuff-like-none-other favorite artists and/or albums and/or songs. Don’t tailor it to what you think I might like. The music I enjoy sometimes even surprises me.

You just might help determine what comprises the next “Shawni’s Favorites” CD. And if that’s not an incentive, what is?? (haha)

Timmy was mesmerized with the goldfish in the bowl on our counter. My 3-year-old birthday buddy stood there on his tip toes watching them intensely.

"Let me take your picture with the fish, Timmy," his mom said.

He turned toward the camara.

"Smile!"

Timmy started to smile... turned suddenly toward the fishbowl... peered inside for a moment.

"Turn around, I didn't take it yet."

He turned back around with a very serious look on his face and pointed his thumb at the fishbowl.

"He won't smile, Mom."

The Fun and Fit Files, part 2

After a nerve-wracking interview with the owner of the company, I got the job. I was thrown into the thick of things before I had time to ask what a back hip circle is. During my first week in the office the facility director was dealing with the sticky situation of an instructor who went on vacation and never came back. It was but a small taste of what lay ahead.

I learned two all-important lessons during that first week.

#1. An office staffed exclusively with females = drama.
#2. A shockingly large number of parents are, if not actually psycho, terrifyingly close to it.

The two intersected and became especially problematic when said females had to deal with said crazy people.

I don't claim to defy any stereotypes of emotional women. But I do have a sense of humor. When Mrs. Difficult Mom complained that she didn't know her tuition was due, after we had painstakingly called every single parent to remind them... TWICE... I pasted on my smile, apologized, took her late payment, and then had a good what-can-you-do-about-it laugh when she was gone.

Let's just say my coworkers took a less lighthearted view of such situations. Perhaps cynicism comes with time?

The Fun and Fit Files, Part 1

Five months ago I pulled into the parking lot on the corner of Soledad and Valley Center Drive for the first time. I was a good 15 minutes early for my job interview, so I parked in front of the door with the sign on top that read “Fun and Fit Gymnastics Center” and turned on KHAY Country. It was a sappy love song playing so I shoved in a Chris Thile CD. No words to remind me of anything, just noise to keep me from thinking.

A tear unexpectedly trickled out of my eye and dripped down my cheek into my mouth. Oh great, I’m crying. Just what I need right before an interview. I squeezed both lids tightly shut against the rainstorm gathering behind them and rued the fact that my nose turns red the instant I start fighting tears.

I took one deep, shaky breath in and out and the ache gripping my throat loosened its hold. Another breath, steadier this time, and I cautiously opened one eye, then the other. I peeked in the rear view mirror. Nothing betrayed me but a dampness at each corner of my eyes, and that I whisked away with the back of my hand. I turned up the music and leaned my head back against the seat.

There I sat, neck deep in my own worries and sorrows. Hardly thinking about what lay ahead, just going through the motions. Existing but not living. Surviving one moment at a time.

Inside the building in front of me bustled a little world of its own. A handful of people who made it run, and a few hundred kids who kept it alive by coming in each week and spending an hour stretching, jumping, swinging, flipping, tumbling through the gym.

When I walked in that day it was empty inside except for a girl in the front office. I would come to learn that afternoons are the slowest time at the gym, and in an hour or two the place would be bursting at the seams.

“I’m here to see Christine,” I said.

“Okay… what’s your name?” the girl looked 20 or so and seemed slightly irritated about something.

“Shawni.”

“Shawni?”

“I’m here for an interview.”

The girl disappeared into the back office. A tall, middle aged woman with glasses reappeared in her place.

“Hi Shawni, I’m Christine.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Come on back and we’ll have a chat.”

On my way into her office she introduced me to the girl behind the counter.

“This is Amanda.”

Amanda smiled and I decided she wasn’t irritated, just shy.

The interview went fine. Christine liked me and didn’t seem to notice that anything was wrong. As I walked out I realized that for the first time in a long time I was in a place where no one knew me at all. No one knew anything about me, my background, my beliefs, my personality. I felt a strange relief. They didn’t know that I used to smile all the time, so they wouldn’t think something was the matter when I didn’t smile. They didn’t know that a week ago I had thought I would be getting married next summer, so they wouldn’t wonder when I didn’t mention his name in conversation. I could pretend none of that ever happened while I was within the four walls of the gym.

And the people there… just faces for now, but I knew that behind those faces lay stories. I drove home hoping to hear back from Christine soon so I could find them out.

Spring

Crocuses are my new favorite flower!

Regrets about the past
Haunting, unrelenting
Fear of what’s ahead
Sinister, foreboding
I seek a place of comfort
Quiet, calm and restful
Nowhere is free from hurt
Associations painful

Hopes all disappointed
Shattered, cold and empty
Goals left unattained
Never quite forgotten
My God, You promised victory
Strength to overcome
Yet still I stumble daily
Sin my feet ensnares

Struggling to my feet again
Exhausted, near despairing
In weakness I find, at last
A guiding hand

My faith has found a resting place
Tranquil, undisturbed
My soul can rest in peace
Quiet as the dawn
Now at the feet of God
Kneeling, bowing down
Letting Him control me
Obedient submission

In this bondage I am free
Complete, no fears abide
I now bow to it willingly
Eager to be bound