Climbing Slower

Mountains have a way of calling to me. When I was younger, I summited some decent peaks, but now I prefer easier ones— those in my neighboring Olympic Mountains.

My husband has been a willing hiking buddy—bless his loving heart. He’d probably prefer biking—but you can’t bike up a mountain. I typically bribe him with my homemade hiking cookies that I dispense like doggy treats along the harder parts of the climb. 




I admit, I’m an aggravating hiking partner because I’m so fixated on getting to the top that I set a pace that isn’t fun. So, on our last climb of the season, I wanted to follow his lead.


Sure, it took longer, but I also had time to take more photos, and even appreciate the changes in the landscape as we climbed. There was time to pull out the binoculars and find landmarks miles away.


I also had time to think about the goodness of where I was and who was with me. Climbing slower gave me a greater appreciation for the one who finally got me to slow down enough to enjoy the journey.





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