Hot Spots

Tips from the Trail #2: Pay attention to 'hot spots'.

This is the way it happens: I'm moving up the trail pretty well. I know I'll need to make a stop for one reason or another in a little while. Maybe the trail is steep and I know I'll soon need to stop and catch my breath, but not yet. Or, just the very beginnings of some hunger pangs are starting to make themselves known, and I know that I'll need to stop for lunch "in a little while". Or, I just recently had a break for one reason or another, and it seems silly/unproductive/not right to stop again already. So I ignore the 'hot spot' on my foot. The place where some kind of friction is taking place, and has called attention to itself. Not pain. Not a problem right now. Just a little warm spot. "Another 15 minutes won't matter!" seems to just naturally come forth in reaction. And I walk on.

It's how I started in Vermont this year. A hot spot on a part of my foot where I've never in my life (started backpacking at age 13!) had a hot spot before. Surely it wasn't really a problem, was it? And I ignored it, for a while.

By the time I couldn't ignore it anymore, it had become a full-out mega blister. Too late to prevent this next step in the foot problem progression, I now tried to handle the blister. The non-stop wet weather and muddy muddy trail meant constantly wet feet, and nothing would stay in place on my feet. I tried everything I knew - most of which I had learned second hand from the 'blister queen' (a title owned by my favorite hiking partner, Geode). But nothing, in those conditions, seemed to stay on, or protect, or keep it clean. Ignoring that initial hot spot, while it was still treatable, eventually led to a large open hole on the arch of my foot, and the infection that eventually hobbled me for a couple of weeks.

I sit now, looking back on the amazing amount of pain it caused me ("It's just a hole in my foot! It was just a blister, for goodness sake! Why does it hurt all the way up into my ankle, and down through my toes???") I could truly kick myself for ignoring that first hot spot. Yes, I've healed. I'm back hiking. But it could have been so different. I could have at least gotten in more of the Long Trail - more of my original plans. I could have avoided so much pain. I came out 'ok' . . . but it didn't have to be this way.

Thus it too often is in life. In parish ministry. In so many things. Pay attention to hot spots.

Back on foot

It has felt really good to put some miles under my feet these last few days. I realized that as long as I simply needed to sit around, foot up and healing (slowly) while I read and thought . . . I wasn't so good at being able to blog. A very different experience than the one I had in June, as I walked and talked and listened.

The foot is still a little tender, but the infection is gone and, with the help of duct tape holding the bandage in place, I'm now able to get a shoe on the foot, put weight on it, and then even put rocks under it! On Thursday, I took to the treadmill to test it all out (much easier simply hitting the "stop" button if it wasn't going well than it would be to turn around and get myself off a mountain). Things went well, so on Friday I took to the trail. I chose the shortest hike I still had left on my list of the "4000 footers of New Hampshire". Two and half miles up (2200 feet elevation gain in that) and then back. It challenged my lungs on the way up (the legs and feet seemed to be fine) but it did challenge the hole in my foot on the way down. I never realized how often, when walking over rock after rock after rock, you put your foot down on the arch rather than on the ball or heel. But it was a good day, and when I peeled the duct tape and bandage off at the end of the day, the foot looked pretty good! No extra damage done. yah!

Took a day off to rest the foot, then took to the hills again today. What an absolutely perfect weather day it was, too. Absolutely perfect for getting above treeline and taking in the very best of what hiking in the White Mountains can be. About 2 more miles today than I had started with two days ago, along with more elevation gain . . . but with no problems at all. Even going down wasn't as hard on my foot today. I definitely feel like I'm on the 'healed' side of this (although I still need to protect the new skin as well as the area that is still 'pre-new skin' - in other words, still in scab).

I've been making a list of "Tips from the Trail" for myself - - things I've learned about myself that are not just about the trail but are about my whole life. I'll blog those in the days ahead.

I guess my most pressing observation at this point, though, comes from observation of two separate families. One from two days ago - - the other from today. Two days ago: it's late morning. I'm in the parking lot, preparing myself for the hike ahead. Another car pulls up next to mine, and out spill a family of four. Mom and Dad. Two little kids (5 and 7?) Littlest is a girl. She's wearing Crocs. Dad looks at me and asks, "I understand there are some trails around here? We'd like to play around on the trails a bit." I think about the preparation I've made to 'play around on the trails a bit" - - lots of water. Good shoes. First aid kit (including the duct tape around my hiking poles, which would help me splint any broken bones). Rain pants and jacket (extra warmth as well as rain protection). Fire, light, extra 'energy' food. Toilet kit (TP, purell, as well as little 'snack' zip lock bags to "pack it out" for the TP). Map and compass. My inhaler (I'm asthmatic.) Bug stuff.

And then I look again at this family. "Why don't you guys look around in the woods for a walking stick?" the dad calls out to the two young ones.

I tell him about the only trail I know of at that site. It's rocky. It's steep. It goes up a 4000+' mountain! I look again at the Crocs on his little girl's feet. I suggest options for him, other than trying this site (like . . .driving over to North Conway the next day . . . hike Black Cap Mt in the morning (1 mile and 360 degree views) and then another easy hike in the afternoon to Diana's Baths (with swimsuits). He thanks me, and they take off up the trail anyway. They don't last long. I can hear the little girl crying in the distance as I head further up the trail.

Today, on my way back down the mountain, at 3:30 in the afternoon, I pass a family of four heading up the mountain. Two boys, a little older than the kids from the family I had met two days before, but . . . four people. Dad, Mom, two boys. Nobody, except the father is carrying anything. I think about the amount of water I had gone through that day . . . just for myself. Dad asks me if the hut is far ahead. I tell him he's not even half-way there yet. Inquire if they're planning on staying there for the night. "No. We're just planning on hiking there and back." It's not an easy hike. It took me 2 1/2 hours to get to the top of this mountain . . . and it gets darker much quicker here in the woods than you'd ever expect. I ask about flashlights. They have none. I warn that they're not really going to get there and back. (All this time, the "mom" is standing behind her husband, just shaking her head in disbelief that she's actually out doing this.) "Oh, I did this kind of thing back in college," the father says. They continue their trip up the mountain, while I continue my way down.

And it reminds me of how often I look at the maps. At how often I dream of the 'exploits' I can have. Of how often my "eyes are bigger than my stomach." Maybe this is my first "tip from the trail" - - don't overestimate my own ability, and don't underestimate the difficulties of the journey. Do my homework. Plan. Talk to those who have already been there. And be willing to change your plans!

It's not just about hiking.

Connections

While in New York City, I had to make a stop at the "mother church". The parish I now serve, Christ Church in North Conway, NH, was founded by Trinity Church, Wall Street, NYC. (The mountains of New Hampshire were a desirable place to spend part of the hot summers in the mid 1800's.) Most of our first vestry meetings were held on Wall Street! We have big city roots out there. I had never been to Trinity before, so made sure it was on my journeys around the city.

Trinity is a beautiful large stone gothic church - - nothing like the smaller scale we live and worship in here in North Conway. The white carved reredos was stunning, and it framed a wonderful set of stained glass windows.

And there, in the glass, I immediately recognized the connection.

Lined up across the front were St. Peter, the evangelists Matthew and Mark, then Christ in the center, then Luke and John, with St. Paul on the far right. The colors were vibrant reds and blues and greens and purples.

Someone had come from New York City, from their beloved home church, and brought that idea for stained glass with them to the mountains of New Hampshire. Our front wall isn't large enough to line all 7 people up across it, like they had done at Trinity - but they're all there. The four evangelists have place of visual focus directly behind the altar. Peter and Paul flank them on the side walls in the chancel area. And Christ is 'ascended' - being above the four evangelists in the peak of the roofline. And all in those same vivid colors.

I'm not sure why it moved me so deeply, but seeing those windows there in Trinity did. I guess it moved me in the same way that seeing my name connected with the names of my ancestors on our family tree moves me. Like seeing my adult face echoing my father's. It is important to recognize our family connections. The family likeness. Our roots. And in the midst of this large, overwhelmingly impressive beautiful stone church, in the midst of the overwhelmingly large city of New York . . .there was the family likeness. Our parish roots.

(pictures in this post are of the reredos with windows in Trinity, Wall Street along with a detail of Matthew and Mark from those windows. And then there is the detail of Matthew and Mark from the windows at Christ Church, North Conway.)

Hobbled

I'm home again . . . and off my feet.

Seems as if miles of mud and rock and wet feet and rock and . . . did I say mud? And uphills and downhills and rocks and, well, mud . . . and 'updated' insoles in hiking shoes that worked perfectly well for miles on flat roads in June but don't work so well in other conditions. The edge of the arch part of the insole began digging into my feet. I moleskinned. I patched. Did I mention that my feet stayed wet? And muddy? Nothing would stick to the foot to keep the blisters from getting worse. So I cut the insole apart - cut the arch part out of it. It was too late. I tried some more moleskin - did it correctly. I covered the blister area with something so that the moleskin wouldn't stick to the blister. Then I used athletic tape wrapped all the way around my foot to try to keep it all in place. Four hours of walking later and the pain getting worse . . . I stop and take the wet (and muddy) shoes and socks off and discover that it has all moved. And despite the fact that moleskin won't stick to wet skin . . . it will stick to wet blistered skin. And then tear that skin right off. Ouch! I lost a thick huge hunk of skin from the bottom of my right foot (at least 1 1/2 inches long . . . and half that wide). At least the skin stayed over the blister on the left one.

So, I cleaned it as well as I could (Purell on an open wound is such a rush! NOT) covered them with gauze, and turned to the big guns - the duct tape. Wrapped that around my foot. And it stayed in place! Despite the wet and the mud. And I kept walking.

But not for as long as I would have liked. It was really too late for that right foot. I worried about what was going on under the duct tape (did I get it clean enough?? would it hold for a few more days until I went home anyway for that wedding??) I finally sat down (in the rain - - have I mentioned that it was wet and muddy?) - and took stock of where I was, how slow I was moving, how much pain my foot was in . . . and called Rick to come get me at the nearest road crossing (about 4-5 miles away at that point).

So I'm home now. Clean and dry, but with an infected foot and feeling much hobbled. Faith afoot? Not at this point!

In the end, it will be all right. Right now I'm just trying to regroup and figure out a direction for this month. I did learn a few things from the beginning of the hike I did take:

1) Take stock of the reality of life and situations, rather than "the way things were".
The last time I put a full pack on and headed out for longer than two days I was 6 years younger and many pounds lighter. At this point in my life, I should have realized that I couldn't do as many miles as I used to do! (The second night out I was camping with a young couple - 20 somethings who were not overweight - who had taken two days to do the same stretch of trail I had done in one day - - their's was the smarter course!)
2) Don't try to do too many things at once.
I had brought "sabbatical work" with me to a long hike. At some point in the past it had sounded like a really good idea . . . but I discovered that instead I was too tired at the end of a long day of (hard) walking to spend time reading and/or writing (yep - you all notice how many blog entries I managed to post from the trail!! despite lugging the technology along to be able to do so. And I never opened that book I carried, either.)
3) Be willing to reassess, and change plans.
At least this is something I think I already knew how to do! Otherwise, I'd be still hobbling up there on that trail . . . and risking some kind of long term issue with this infected foot.

I'll leave it up to all of you to figure out what those three things have to do with being church in the 21st century!