Not a marathon, because for myself I cannot really imagine I’d enjoy that. And I want to try and enjoy this experience.
It’s not the first time I’m on this hike. I’ve done half of it before. There are many others who aren’t first-timers either. Some proudly bring along the living proof of having been here before. They seem to march confidently. Others, like me, are more quiet, carefully placing every step. The babies from the last time I attempted this hike, I can only carry them in my heart.
I’m trying to remind myself that this is not a competition. To rest when I need to. To get help when I need it.
Many others are here, it is almost crowded at times. Yet, I cannot really relate. I’m sure there are others that I could relate to, that understand my situation, but I don’t know who they are. Three alone from our families are here (we just found out about another). They all found the trailhead easily, while we needed not only a detailed map, but someone to guide us.
There’s a pass I am afraid off. The 20-24-weeks-pass. Last time, I fell. Into deep darkness. Crawled out, bruised and battered and without my babies, but I made it back to the trailhead. Physically I have healed as much as one can in this time, and I know that some things are different this time round, but I’m still afraid. I will accept all the help I can get, and hope we make it.
In the end, while I would like to enjoy this journey when I can, or at least not spent the whole time worrying, the most important part is to make it to the summit. From where, I hear, we can enter a whole new amazing landscape.