Hiking With the Help of a Couple of Friends.

The bad thing about writing Christmas blog posts is the short shelf life. I had three or four that have expired, and will hibernate online, maybe never to be seen again. All of the work languishing after the 25th. Work might be a little strong. How about all the whining, carping and complaining, or making light of the important pieces of life. I can’t really say that I ever look at writing as work. Sometimes I read, or watch television, sometimes I write. It is all part of relaxing. 

We just got back from relaxing at Dillon State Park. It is a hilly, tree covered paradise between Newark (pronounced Nerk) and Zanesville (pronounced Zanesville). Ohio really has a lot to offer. If you are willing to look. I imagine that would be true of almost any state, though. How many things exist so close that we don’t see them looking for distant adventures? 

We have started a list, maybe a bucket list, maybe a wish list, maybe just a list, of places we want to go. It just keeps growing, we may have to live forever. But, several of them are only a short drive from here. 

Actually, we haven’t really started a list at all. We just keep finding places we want to go, and say “hey, add this to the list.” A list would probably be a good idea. Much more difficult to forget if you can see it on a list. None of that “where should we go this year?” “I don’t know, where do you think we should go?” that has become so entertaining over the years. Or maybe not so entertaining.

But, here is the good news. In the middle of October we went to Buck Creek State Park and I could barely drag my leg around the Lake View Trail. A relatively flat, straight trail that separates the disc golf course from the lake. I never understood the need to add scoring and competition to frisbee. “Tossing the bee,” as my old roommate used to call it is pure zen. Free form floating beauty, art meets differential calculus as it arcs and  gracefully from point to point. Once you add the accountancy of the dog eat dog world of contest it becomes a little stained, dirty, less beauty more beast. But, that is not the point.

The point is I walked about a mile, a half mile each way, dragging my sore, tired leg behind me and it almost killed me, I was exhausted. It was the impetus that drove me to the doctor. Of course the gentle steering and guidance of my lovely wife didn’t hurt either. He prescribed physical therapy. Two months later I am hiking around Quarry Rim Trail. A circuitous path through the forest meandering up and down hills, twisting and turning through heavy brush, and ending up at the Black Hand Quarry, a jewel hidden from sight by the forest primeval, unless you are willing to brave the trail. I used my walking stick, thoughtfully given to my by my sister and her husband  several years ago, before I even needed a walking stick. Maybe they knew what was coming. It is a sturdy, beautiful piece of wood. It also houses a helpful spirit. My helpful spirit who keeps me on the right path and upright. Kind of like my wife.