DT on the AT: Pennsylvania

Last week I received a reservation confirmation letter for my trip to Baxter State Park. At the end of July, I will be hiking Mt. Katahdin, which is the highest peak in Maine and the northern terminus of the Appalachian Trail.

I’ve made it a goal to hike a section of the AT in as many states as possible, before my trip to Maine. On Saturday, I hiked a section near Hamburg, PA to Pulpit Rock and The Pinnacle.

The trail was steep and rocky in many sections, but the view from the top was worth it.

When I returned to the parking lot, I fired up my Garmin Colorado and went to look for a geocache. The 300 feet of bushwhacking I did to get there wasn’t easy, but I spotted it right away. There was an Appalachian Trail Geocoin in the cache, which I grabbed to move along on my next section hike in New Jersey.

weekly recap

Sunday: Just because you’re morbidly obese doesn’t mean you can park in the spots designated for parents with small children at Wegmans.

Monday: Playing El DeBarge at the gym should be forbidden, especially on a Monday morning.

Tuesday: It’s 6pm and raining...that could only mean one thing...I am going to the Phillies game.

Wednesday: What does my father do in his car that necessitates the use of three air fresheners?

Thursday: Selecting a new pillow was one of the toughest decisions I’ve had to make in recent months.

Friday: Taking three days off from running feels more like three months.

Saturday: I get up earlier on the weekend than I do during the week.

moments

We’ve all been in situations where we feel wronged. There are times when people close to us have let us down. Relationships don’t always work out for one reason or another.

Some people may look at these instances and see them as grounds for parting ways, being angry or holding a grudge. I see them as a challenge to do just the opposite by redefining not only myself, but also the link that I have to these people.

To quote Buddha “Holding on to anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned.” I am quick to give people second (and third) chances. You can’t improve yourself without first making mistakes.

This isn’t something that I learned over night. I spent several years holding a grudge against my father for the way I saw him treat my grandmother. With age came experience and the moments in my life when I realized that there are things of greater consequence.

Most recently, it came in the form of a telephone call where the voice on the other end of the line said that something has happened and that I should come right away. Somehow, amidst all of the chaos, came a moment of clarity in which I was reminded of the things that matter the most.

These moments will be different for everyone, but without a doubt, life will keep throwing them at you as a reminder.


"Save your strength for things that you can change. Forgive the ones you can't. You gotta let 'em go."

humanity found

I go to the chiropractor a few times a month for an adjustment. Usually, the waiting room is empty and I chat with the office manager. Today, it was occupied by an older gentleman, who was in the middle of telling a story when I walked in the door. When he finished, he paused for a moment and then asked me to guess his age. Let me tell you, he looked really good for 89 years old. He said that the reason why he had no wrinkles on his face was because he never smoked, drank or doped.

He proceeded to tell a story about the way in which he taught his students about the dangers of these vices. One day he brought a drinking glass to the classroom. He placed the glass in a paper bag and with one swing of a hammer; the glass was shattered into several pieces. He emptied the contents of the bag on to the table and asked the students to put the glass back together. They all agreed that there was no way that they could restore these tiny pieces of glass into its original form.

The point of his story wasn’t exactly novel, but the way in which he told it was and that’s what I appreciated the most. All it took was one swing of the hammer (an action that took a mere second to complete) to destroy the glass.

The time spent in the waiting room was more of a monologue than a dialogue, but I didn’t mind. For a moment, it felt like he needed to be there, speaking just as much as I needed to be there, listening...and I appreciated the reminder.



"We only see two things in people, what we want to see and what they want to show us."

Choose Your Own Adventure

Choose Your Own Adventure is a series of children's gamebooks where each story is written from a second-person point of view, with the reader assuming the role of the protagonist and making choices that determine the main character's actions and the plot's outcome. Choose Your Own Adventure was one of the most popular children's series during the 1980s and 1990s, selling over 250 million copies between 1979 and 1998.

I remember reading these books as a child. At certain points in the book, the reader is faced with a decision. Choice A will take you to one page and Choice B will take you to another. The story will end a different way depending on the decisions the reader has made along the way. Sometimes, I would cheat and look at both options, selecting the one that was most appealing. Wouldn’t it be nice if life worked in this fashion?

Lately, I’ve been finding myself saying “what if” about many situations that have unfolded over the past several months. What if...she had refused to leave...that woman never turned...it hadn’t rained that weekend...I called instead of sent that text...and the list goes on and on. I do this, knowing that it is completely futile. So, what is the point? Why am I wasting my time? Because it has taught me something.

Each decision we make takes us on a different trajectory. I think this holds true for most things in life, but I also think that sometimes, no matter what decision you make, you are eventually going to find yourself at the same end. It might have just taken you four or five extra steps along the way.

unplugged

Last fall I sold just about everything I owned at the town yard sale. Whatever remained was donated to Goodwill, along with several bags of clothes. My rule for discarding clothes went as follows...if I haven’t worn it in the past year, it goes.

Now, I feel confident in saying that everything that I own (with the exception of my dresser and bed) could fit into my car. While that wasn’t necessarily my goal, the act of downsizing was a liberating experience.

I aim to live a simple life. One component of this involves “unplugging” myself from technology whenever/as much as possible. My cell phone is from 2005 and it doesn’t have apps, internet, email or GPS, but I can call you and at the end of the month, my bill is only $55. I lived most of my adult life without cable television. In fact, I couldn’t tell you the last time I turned it on. I don’t use GPS in my car. If I’m going some place new, I write down the directions. And, I challenge myself to take a digital sabbatical (http://rowdykittens.com/2010/07/digital-sabbatical/) at least once a week.

On Friday afternoon I went to get my oil changed. There were four other customers in the waiting area with me. One lady was texting, one guy was talking on his phone, the other two men were using the internet on their phones...and then there was me, taking it all in.

I thought about what this scenario would be like prior to the invention of these devices. Would we all just sit around and stare at each other? Would we (gasp) actually have a conversation with each other? Would we have brought our own reading materials and proceeded to ignore each other as we do when we’re using our phones?

It’s just something to think about. People seem to be so connected to technology. If there is a free second, it’s consumed by that device in the palm of your hand. Connected to the internet...connected to email...connected to text...connected to the person on the other end of the line...disconnected from all that is around them at the present moment.

Personally, I view these experiences as opportunities to connect with the world around me. Maybe that is the reason why I am writing about the things I noticed while I sat alone, waiting for my oil to be changed and they just kept their heads down.

the plight of the dog aggressive dog owner

Riley came into my life in June of 2003. In the months following her adoption from the SPCA she was the perfect dog. I took her to off leash parks where she played well with other dogs.

July, August, September, October, November and December were wonderful. When winter set in, we began taking our walks closer to home. One February afternoon, we were at the soccer field. There was another woman there with her dog, Yahtzee. I recognized them from the dog park.

Riley had played with Yahtzee on several occasions. As the dog approached, Riley lunged and began attacking him. Thankfully, the confrontation was quickly diffused with minimal damage. Little did I know, that moment marked the start of a long journey as the owner of a dog aggressive dog.

I made several phone calls to speak with trainers. The one I worked with told me that there was little that could be done to change her aggressive tendencies. It’s somewhat disappointing to find this out because all I wanted was a normal dog. As a child, we had a cocker spaniel that never played with other dogs, never really cared much for people and seemed more interested in eating garbage off the ground than anything else. I dreamed of the day when I had my own dog, a dog that I could take hiking, one that would fetch a ball and go on adventures with me.

The best solution the trainer offered was for me to learn how to manage her behavior. We did a lot of leash work. I learned what to do if we encountered another dog on a walk. It took a lot of practice to get to the point where I felt in control on a walk. I spent a considerable amount of time, working with Riley because it was my obligation, to become the most responsible owner possible.

One problem I have with this is the way in which people perceive me as the owner. Aggressive dog come in all sizes. Little, 10-pound dogs can be aggressive as well, although their barks are far less fierce than those which come out of my 75-pound Riley.

Just because my dog is mouthy and looks like she wants to take a chunk out of your beagle, doesn’t mean that I am a bad person. Some days I feel like I need to carry a sign around that says, “My dog isn’t friendly, but I am.”

The second problem I have is with people who think that it is ok to allow their dog to walk off leash in the neighborhood. First off, it is illegal. Your dog might be friendly, but mine is not. It’s frustrating to walk three quarters of the way up the block, only to find an off leash dog, running around on someone’s front lawn. I never know if that dog will try to approach mine, which leaves me with no option other than to turn around and take a different route.

Despite her idiosyncrasies, Riley is a good dog. She’s never shown any signs of aggression toward another person and she loves me, unconditionally.