Squaw Peak

I love biking.

About a month and a half ago I decided to bike up Squaw Peak. I figured it would be a good ride,   I’d never done it before, and I love exploring up in Provo canyon. And I mean maybe I’d meet some hot biker guy and we’d race to the top and then make out and then we’d get married after biking across America together and then...

It’s probably bad that I am frequently boarding this train of thought.

Annnnnyway. I thought it would be a good ride. I had no idea what I was getting into. So I packed up my camelback, donned my shortest spandex in hopes of getting a tan and left. After the 8 miles of steady incline to get to Squaw Peak road, I started the climb. I learned later that the climb consisted of 4 miles of switch-backs and unrelenting hills with literally no flat sections. I also learned later that at 2 in the afternoon when I attempted the climb it was about 95 degrees outside. I’m not sure what I expected to be honest with you. I mean, I was attempting to bike up a mountain in the middle of June. And I didn’t even have my cool clip-in pedals so I didn’t have nearly enough power as I do now.

The first 2 switch-backs were bad, I was already in my lowest gears and I realized I needed to adjust my seat. So I pulled over and watched as several muscular men with calves as big as their thighs passed me, asking if I was ok. I just nodded, slightly ashamed. I had no idea.

It was good I didn’t ask them how much farther it would be to the top of the mountain because I probably would have given up right then. But I decided as I mounted again that I didn’t care what I had to do to get to the top – I would get there even if I had to crawl.

I couldn’t handle more than one switch-back at a time biking so I alternated walking and riding. Several times I broke down and cried and every time I wiped my tears away quickly as another biker passed me. I wasn’t even sure what were tears and what was sweat.

I couldn’t help but think I wasn’t good enough or strong enough or fit enough or legitimate enough. I couldn’t help but hate my inferior bike and how I ran out of water about half way up. Or how unprepared I was. The hills just never stopped. There was never a moment of respite. Some cars that passed me were clearly struggling up the incline. I had no idea how hard it was going to be.

When I finally reached the top, slightly delirious from dehydration and sunburn, I fell to the ground and didn’t move for a good 20 minutes. Crying. My legs were Jell-O. I felt like I was going to die. I lost everything I had eaten that day. I was a mess. And I’m pretty sure I made the couple who was up there taking romantic pictures worry a little bit. But whatever. All I could think was “Why God? Why was that so hard? Why did you make it so hard?”

Except it was after I thought these things (and done my share of cursing at the universe out loud) that I clearly remember thinking (hearing?), “Liz, you did this to yourself”, in one of the clearest, most comforting realizations I’d been given in a long time.

I had no idea how hard Squaw Peak would be. No one asked me to do it. Yet I’ve always been one to learn the hard way… I did what I wanted and I have so much trouble giving up what I want. That mountain was there, sure, but I didn’t have to climb it. Not that it was inherently a bad thing to climb it – it’s a perfectly worthy endeavor. But I wasn’t ready for it. It was I who jumped in, in all my naivety. I overestimated myself and it was I who thought God was out to get me. But really He was the only way I could find relief.

So there at the top of the mountain, I saw where I had came from and where I’d chosen to be. And even though I didn’t even bike the whole way, even though I felt like it was too much, it never was. And even though I blamed God and the universe for beating me down, I realized who was really responsible and I finally felt accepted for who I am and I acknowledged who I am – a child who the universe loves regardless of which mountains I choose to climb and what mistakes I make along the way. I felt loved.

The kicker was I didn’t get what I had originally wanted and I wasn’t who I thought I was. But that was ok.

I tried to climb Squaw Peak again today. With my new clip-in pedals and shoes, twice the amount of water, and with a different attitude. I still didn’t make it. And that was ok.