I read an interesting article the other day about how it is largely genetics that determines whether or not you find exercise enjoyable. It's an interesting concept and one that I've been thinking a lot about lately, particularly over the weekend.
I met my sister in New Hampshire to climb Mt. Washington for her 16th birthday. She's my half-sister actually, and 10 years younger than I am. When she was younger we adored each other and spent a lot of time together, but in recent years we've grown apart. Part of that is my fault- I've been busy establishing a post collegiate life. I don't go to my Dad's house regularly. That's partially because I'm busy, and partially because I just don't enjoy being there anymore. My step-mom seems to reign over the house, and no matter what my Dad and I do, it isn't right. My sister is picking up that same attitude, and honestly just isn't that pleasant to be around. Most of the time she doesn't speak to me, and if she does, it is to complain.
But climbing, she was happy, and we were happy. We're both athletes, and somehow being in motion broke down the walls between us. In sneakers and light jackets we charged up the mountain, passing hikers that were far better equipped. At the summit we stood knee high in the snow, shivering, and almost getting knocked over by the wind, but grinning from ear to ear. When we got near other hikers we both instinctively kicked into a higher gear in order to pass them. When we got back down to the base, and realized our ride wasn't there, we both were eager to try another loop while we waited. We both have that drive to push ourselves. Then we got back in the car, and she returned to her sullen self, grunting responses and complaining about my choice of movies and restaurants. So I'll have to cling to those moments on the mountain.
No comments:
Post a Comment