I had just come out of a week-long flare up, missed 2 1/2 days of work, and spent all my time alternating between the couch and the bed. By Friday afternoon, I started to comeback to a baseline (which isn’t all that great to begin with) and didn’t think I could stand one more day cooped up in this stupid apartment. We had talked for a couple of weeks about hiking the Opal Creek & Jawbone Flats trail over the weekend and I was determined to make it happen.

“Are you sure you can do this?” My husband, who has taken on a bit of a caregiver role to me was genuinely trying to show his concern for me when I replied, “I’m going to do this, come hell or high water.” Have I mentioned how stubborn I am? I mean, I had done this hike twice before and made it out alive. It was one of my favorites, thus far, and I really wanted to go. I’ve got this. I’ve. Got. This.

So Saturday morning Jake, Kaela, the pups, and some of our closest friends (who also happen to be Morgan’s boyfriend’s parents – got that?), shipped out to drive the hour and a half drive to get up to the trailhead. Now, understand that we’ll post a short video of the trail, and of course, it is stunning, and yes here are some photos to ‘ooooh’ and ‘ahhhh’ over.

But, let’s talk for a sec about the effect this particular hike had on me…

You know that feeling when you know if you stop, you’ll just collapse, fall, or faint? That was me the last mile of that hike. I had pushed my self FAR beyond the limits of what I should have allowed myself that day, but seriously, what was I going to do, stop right where I was and say “I’m done guys, get me outta here.” Yeah, wasn’t going to happen. I was committed to getting out of there on my own two feet.

I climbed in the SUV and before we’d even gotten off the dirt road, every muscle in my body began to throb, tighten, and sting, the lightening jolts of nerve pain started surging through my back, shoulders and neck. My joints began burning, I felt flush, weak, heavy, and I felt like I was shaking even though nothing on me was moving. Nausea hit with little pangs of disorientation and my feet and hands felt as though there were little tiny needles poking me all at once. I was in so much trouble. I didn’t utter many words on the way home. I contemplated asking Jake to take me to the ER, because that’s how much pain I was in. I squashed that idea because I had no idea what I was going to tell them or even how they could help me. Well… I’d done this to myself. Hell.

After getting home, taking some meds, soaking in a hot shower, and laying down for a while, I had to ask myself it if was worth it. Do your stress hormone lower if you are exercising you ‘dirt therapy’ but are also in pain? Probably not. Would I pay, days later, for this excursion I just had to go on? I was paying for it at the moment, that was for sure. I had to think about whether or not I was utilizing my capabilities and my need for the outdoors to my advantage and benefit.

The next day I can’t say I was in the best shape, but I wasn’t half bad either. Jake and I took a drive to a nearby covered bridge and sat underneath with our feet in the water as the current flowed by. I watched the tiny baby trout circle around our feet and realized how good my insides felt, even if my body was still acting like the traitorous b**** she is known to be. My heart was happy. My mind was calm. I felt… well, kind of emotional, if I’m honest. On the way home we listened to a song that Morgan introduced us to called ‘Your Hand in Mine’ by Explosions in the Sky. It kind of fit how I was feeling right then.

Okay so maybe I could have picked a different dirt therapy path to take that day. I probably wouldn’t have been so physically miserable, and maybe had a bit more energy on Sunday… Tsk. Next time. But you know what? I did do it. My insides felt good – my mind, my soul, my spirit, my emotions – whatever you call that stuff deep inside you – it felt whole. I’ll take that and plan better the next time.

Peace, Love & Dirt

~Misty