We took a trip last week to visit friends in Mont-Tremblant, Quebec, who were nice enough to host all four Cebulas for a few days. I, being not at all outdoorsy nor terribly athletic, decided it would be such the great idea to climb the mountain while were there. I even went out an bought new (cute!) hiking shoes.
"You sure?" said my very outdoorsy and athletic friend. "It's a pretty good climb."
Of course! Can't let a good shoe go to waste. 4 miles straight to the top? That's like walking from the Upper East Side to, what, Soho? Totally doable. Except, like, up.
But what the hell, I'd set the treadmill elevation to 10 before, and I didn't die. Surely I could do this. Plus, you know, the shoes! They were cute and sporty and made me feel official.
Standing at the base of the mountain, my friend pointed to a teeny tiny observation deck at the summit. It was like an ant house. "That's where we're going," she said. And...wow. That was a loooooong way up a steep incline.
"Don't worry," she said, heading up the trail, "there's only one part that's scary*, right at the top."
Well, blog friends, I did pretty well most of the way up. My husband and youngest daughter came, too, and we took it in small steps. I tried not to think about how far I had to go. Just up to that ridge, just across that little stream, we'll take a break at the rock. Much like when tackling a new novel. I'm a slow writer, and if I think too much about how many pages I have to go, forget about it. I freeze. Surely I don't have the chops to write 300 effing pages of story? I'm a short form person, not a novelist--that's too much work. Turns out I can if I just chug along.
And that's what I did.
We made it!
So, how about you? Have you accomplished anything great or small lately?
*OMG. Scary. I almost cried!