Pounding though the muddy terrain, the crisp October wind whips violently across my body leaving every ounce of me shaking and cold. The vibrant colors of leaves, transforming into majestic masterpieces surround me, as I make my journey. Coming out from underneath the trees the sun rises from the east painting a sky full of vivid color. The orange colors bring warmth and comfort to me as I press forward. The frigid air brings heaviness to my lungs, as I remember, this is why I run. Trail after trail the beauty encircles me. God’s wondrous design stretches as far as I can see. The quietness of the moment allows me to peacefully access my problems. Looking forward, I see peace. Perhaps one of the less stressful environments for me on campus, the trail always seems to bring me down to a more relaxed level. By the end of September or early October, the trail has reached ultimate perfection. Beautiful scenery and crisp cool weather collide to make a season; cross country season. …show more content…
Runners have no off season; this is why “summer miles” are so important. We endure the blazing heat, sweat gallons and give of our time year round. Runners take whatever weather is thrown at them and runs with it. Simply no other option is available. Would a basketball coach cancel practice because of a broken air conditioner in a gym? No, as long as the gym is standing, the players still practice. Fortunately for us, our “gym” is always open, day or night; rain or shine we endure the
Out of the 12 months of the year, students basically only have about two months to have fun and not worry about school. As a teenager, you do things without predicting the outcome. We tend to not always listen to our parents and sometimes end up in terrible situations.
My life so far has been like a good hiking path. A path that is winding and twisting and encompassed with plenty of beauty. A path that is lined with trees like angels protecting you from the mysteries in the deep forest and that keep you rooted on the path you are destine to take. One that is filled with deep troughs and the most beautiful peaks you could ever image. Sometimes the path is rocky and hurts the soles of your feet until they crack and bleed, but other times it’s covered with a soft green moss that lifts your steps and revives your spirits. Through the last 17 years of my life, I have traveled that path and endured every step. I have gone into the dark abyss of the trough and have found in it the most precious grace of light. As I have gotten older I have come to recognize that the scary and shaky steps of my path have indeed been “fearsome blessings” (Buechner, 92).
Dani and I stand in the sun waiting for the “men” to catch up. The view was worth Quill’s whining and navigating through the snow. The breeze catches in the bright green and gold of new Aspen leaves whispering around the lake. The Pine trees scent the air and bask in the sun to steal its warmth from the forest below. The trees are a dark canopy along our path permitting only a few patches of the raised finely mulched trail to a beam or two of sun. Framed like a photo three pencil lead gray peaks rise above a lower sweeping curve of pines. They look close enough to walk over the ridge and touch them. Boulders precariously cling to the side of the mountains. The perfect deep blue early summer sky is the perfect backdrop.
I'm Jeffery the oxe and I recently completed the Oregon trail. In the beginning we started in Saint Louis, Missouri. We were waiting on the field for my food to grow, then I would be free fed.
I prepared myself for the upcoming adventurous day. I set out along a less-traveled path through the woods leading to the shore. I could hear every rustle of the newly fallen leaves covering the ground. The brown ground signaled the changing of seasons and nature's way of preparing for the long winter ahead. Soon these leaves would be covered with a thick layer of snow. The leaves still clinging to the trees above displayed a brilliant array of color, simultaneously showing the differences of each and the beauty of the entire forest.
In the heart of Yosemite National Park, surrounded by towering redwoods, I began a journey that left an indelible mark on my soul. It was a golden summer morning, the sun shone warmly on desert rocks and green meadows. As I set out on the misty path, the roar of distant waterfalls filled the air and reflected the granite walls. Each step revealed a new sight: the colorful spray of Bridalveil Fall, the cool touch of the Merced River, and the smell of pine needles under my feet. I was not alone in this majestic landscape.
As I sat in the boiling hot sun, the heat that had overwhelmed me throughout the day surpassed. I was engulfed by Lu Paul, a native Hawaiian advocate who was telling me the story of how Native Hawaiians loss their rights. “How did my people become a minority in their own land?” he asked me inquisitively. I found myself making many connections with this man’s story and my own. As he answered my questions about inequality in his community, he began to speak of many things that I had witnessed in my life, that I thought only my own culture experienced. “My people need to fight for equal education, language rights, and employment”, he stated firmly. It was in this moment I began to broaden my perspective of inequality and minority rights. This along with the many other field experiences I had during my semester abroad, help shape my desire to attend law school and work both nationally and abroad in civil and human rights.
It was simply amazing hiking out there, the mountains covered in tall trees that dug into the rocky soil, the beautiful sky, when visible. Even in the midst of strenuous exercise I still en...
Her spry, Timberland-clad foot planted itself upon a jagged boulder, motionless, until her calf muscles tightened and catapulted her small frame into the next stride. Then Sara's dance continued, her feet playing effortlessly with the difficult terrain. As her foot lifted from the ground, compressed mint-colored lichen would spring back into position, only to be crushed by my immense boot, struggling to step where hers had been. My eyes fixated on the forest floor, as fallen trees, swollen roots, and unsteady rocks posed constant threats for my exhausted body. Without glancing up I knew what was ahead: the same dense, impenetrable green that had surrounded us for hours. My throat prickled with unfathomable thirst, as my long-empty Nalgene bottle slapped mockingly at my side. Gnarled branches snared at my clothes and tore at my hair, and I blindly hurled myself after Sara. The portage had become a battle, and the ominously darkening sky raised the potential for casualties. Gritting my teeth with gumption, I refused to stop; I would march on until I could no longer stand.
It was very refreshing to have time to look around and enjoy nature. It was late summer, early fall and the leaves on the trees were just starting to turn colors. As the cold breeze stung my face, I focused on what I heard. Immediately, I started to hear the joyful
In hiking, as in life, there are choices between success and pain, pride and safety; this is the story of one such choice. Last summer I participated in the Rayado program at Philmont Scout Ranch. The eighth day of the trek was my crew’s greatest challenge: Super Black Death, a hike of seven peaks in one day.
With stress on my mind and a cookie in my hand, I headed towards the wooded area behind her home. At the beginning of the trail, there was an old rotting tire swing barely hanging onto a low-hanging branch. The extensive amount of muddy puddles and the surrounding damp grass made me hesitant to follow through with my grandmother’s suggestion; the mountain of homework that waited for me back at home convinced me to continue. Trees towered over me, adding to the existing weight of stress that sat upon my shoulders, as I carefully maneuvered around the biggest puddles, beginning to become frustrated. Today was a terrible day to go for a walk, so why would my grandmother suggest this? Shaking my head in frustration, I pushed forward. The trail was slightly overgrown. Sharp weeds stabbed my sides every few steps, and I nearly tripped over a fallen tree branch. As the creek barely came into view, I could feel the humidity making my hair curly and stick to the sides of my face. After stopping to roll up the ends of my worn blue jeans, I neared the end of the trail. Bright sunlight peeked through the branches and reflected off the water. The sun must have come out from behind a cloud, seeing as it now blinded me as I neared the water. A few minutes passed by before I could clearly see
I almost fell off a cliff on the side of a mountain. I was in Pitkin, Colorado, on a camping trip during the summer of 2009. The trees were green, the air was fresh so were the lakes, rivers, and ponds were stocked with fish and wildlife was everywhere. Usually, on these camping trips, I would be accompanied by a large number of people. However, this time, it was just my parents, my three brothers, and my two sisters. I was almost 12 years old at the time and having three older brothers made me very competitive. Naturally, when my family decided to climb one of the mountain’s which were around us, I wanted to be the first one to reach its peak.
This area of the world is so foreign to my Oklahoma life; it infuses me with awe, and with an eerie feeling of being strongly enclosed by huge mountains, and the mass of tall trees. However, when my foot first steps onto the dusty trail it feels crazily magical. The clean, crisp air, the new smell of evergreen trees and freshly fallen rain is mixed with fragrances I can only guess at. It is like the world has just taken a steroid of enchantment! I take it all in, and embrace this new place before it leaves like a dream and reality robs the moment. As I turn and look at my family, I was caught by my reflection in their impressions. The hair raising mischief in the car was forgotten and now it was time to be caught up in this newness of life. It was as if the whole world around us had changed and everyone was ready to engulf themselves in it. The trickling of water somewhere in the distance and the faint noise of animals all brought the mountains to
The familiarity of the woods, the natural urges my body has to be outside and be active in the setting that most people in today’s society only truly see in movies, if that, reminds me of other ventures into the woods, the citrusy smell of pine mixed with the smells of wild grasses and various flowers create an unmatched bombardment of scents. These scents stimulate the mind in a calming way unlike any medication or music ever could. The aroma of the forest sends chills down my spine, causing you to get the urge to explore and to absorb yourself in to the natural wonders the human body