Tuesday, April 26, 2005

Hiking versus ambling.

When I was in college up in the mountains of North Carolina, I loved to amble along hiking trails. There were several occasions when I made the mistake of going with someone bent on actual hiking. Hikers and amblers just don't mix.

Hiking is a sport. Hikers have gear, special shoes, and they pump their arms and legs, bent forward, eyes on the prize.

Amblers wear shoes that give them blisters because they didn't actually intend to amble for such a long time or distance. Amblers are just ambling along when...oops, it's getting dark. They walk slowly, stopping often, inhaling deeply, searching the trees for squirrels.

My mother and her brother are hikers, though they have no gear to the best of my knowledge. Still, they are intent and intense in their forward momentum. My father and my uncle's wife are amblers. When I was a child and we hit the trails as a group, my mother and uncle were far off in the distance, while my father and aunt loped along at a leisurely pace.

I may be lazy. I may just loathe the idea of intentional exercise for its own sake. But I also love to just walk slowly and to take in whatever is surrounding me - dilapidated buildings or waterfalls.

I cannot wait to take Fain to the mountains when he's old enough to walk. I love them so much. More than anything, I've missed the mountains since I've been away. The scent of mulchy leaves in dark earth far below the dark tops of pines and maples. I can't wait to take Fain camping on weekends, to sit beside a campfire and talk about what we saw as we ambled along paths through rhododendrum, mountain myrtle, and azaleas. I can't wait to drive along the parkway, excited by the prospect of beauty around every corner. I've missed the mountains. I can't wait to share them with my son.

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