« The Week of No Running | Main | Don't Stop Moving »
July 19, 2006
Gold Glitters
I recently spent some time in Helena, Montana (Incidentally, Helena is a really cool town, I dig the place.), which was founded upon a gold strike of magnificent proportion. During the thirty years or so of epic wealth that the town experienced, gold miners numbering in the thousands dug deep tunnels in the ground and stood in snow melt creeks seeking the source of their gaining wealth: gold. Some miners found it faster than others, many got rich, but all worked hard. I can imagine that mining or panning for gold has to be a most arduous task, searching through layers upon layers of rock or pans and pans of river pebbles for that glittery gold reward. More rewarding than the sight of gold and its tangible touch, though, might have been the financial gains reaped from trading in that gold at the end of a hard day's work.
Some days I might liken my life to that of a Helena gold miner. Life is a busy flurry of challenging activities, and I often find myself feeling nearly overwhelmed by it. I suppose many of us are like this, life just gets tough. Once in a while, in the middle of this harried mess, I get the gold glitters that flash brightly in my face, reminding me of the finest things in life.
A few evenings ago, I was driving home from a great afternoon of hiking. For some reason, on this July weekend evening in Yellowstone National Park, there was little traffic on the road. I came upon a wide meadow, with grass growing green and waist high. The sun was low in the sky, just setting, and the tips of the grass blades glowed in the long, shadowy, evening light. The meadow itself appeared as perfect habitat for any kind of wildlife, but it was empty except for a single elk. This elk was young, still covered with the fuzzy, freckled fur of something recently born. It appeared bold and confident, venturing out alone into an empty meadow to prance and graze. I watched the lone elk for several minutes, and it wasn't long before the little one suddenly realized that it was all alone. It ran back toward the forest margin, then back into the meadow, then to the other side of the meadow. It vocalized a noise in a high, hollow, echo-y pitch that can only be described as the elk version of "Help!" It moved frantically, with sudden kicks and bucks as it changed directions. I was sure that this baby elk had lost sight of its mother. Several more minutes passed, elk desperation ensued as its vocalizations reached a fevered state. There was palpable fear, perhaps terror, in the air that even I could sense. Just when I was unsure of how much more fear this baby elk could tolerate, an adult elk stepped calmly out of the woods. The baby elk and its presumed mother reunited and the baby suckled intently. Instantly, calmness returned to the meadow and I felt very lucky to have observed these moments.
Yesterday I ran 4 tentative miles. My calf felt fine during, after, and even now. What was most painful was running in the heat of the day oh-so-carefully-slowly. However, despite the heat and my pace, being able to run without issue is a supreme feeling. I didn't press my luck and run 2 days in a row. I figure I'll try for 5 miles tomorrow.
While the boys on bikes over there in France are climbing big passes in Les Alpes, I conquered my own smaller hill climb. I biked the full climb from Gardiner, MT (elevation about 5300 feet), through Mammoth Hot Springs (elevation about 6300 feet), to Swan Lake Flats (elevation about 7300 feet) over about 10 miles distance. It was a sweet climb, I didn't get hit by an inattentive tourists, and it wasn't too hard.
So, when the world gets tough, when my workdays are long, when I don't get enough sleep, when the tourists cause trouble that I can't possibly dream up on my own, I've always got these little gold glitters to remind me about the finer things in life. Baby elk learning about the world, uninjured running, and tall hill climbs, that's what life is about.
Posted by Meghan at July 19, 2006 10:46 PM
Comments
So true! Awesome post, great writing. Glad your calf is feeling okay! Thanks for sharing the baby elk story, how many people are lucky enough to see something like that? Very cool.
Posted by: anne at July 20, 2006 10:39 AM
sounds wonderful, m.
we must be living parallel lives...the heat, the unexpected beauty, the hill climb. trippy. i'm just thankful that my calf is fine. don't jinx me there, m'kay?
i'm wondering when you're going to post some fun entries about the "trouble that i can't possibly dream up on my own" that the tourists get into. those stories are always a hoot.
Posted by: jeff at July 23, 2006 6:55 AM
ooohhh, nothing like the sweet relief of knowing an injury is on the mend. it sooths the mind!!!!!!!!!
Posted by: Audrey at July 24, 2006 7:30 PM