How the Mountains Brought me Peace

Submitted by Women’s Adventure reader, Diane

I am 39 years old, and I recently had a miscarriage. Until I got pregnant, I was a “wanna be” athlete. I road or mountain biked several days a week, but with a good enough excuse, I often skipped. I participated in several centuries, but always finished close to last. When I went mountain biking, it was always the same route and never the difficult trails. I participated in a couple of triathlons, but not in several years. Essentially, I set goals to participate in athletic events, but stopped training once the event was over. After the miscarriage, I wasn’t allowed to exercise for about three weeks. Until the miscarriage, I didn’t understand how much I relied on biking, hiking, swimming and kayaking to ease my stress.

I was eight weeks along when I miscarried. Most of my friends and family didn’t even know. But, after the miscarriage, those who knew were supportive, but most did not understand my sadness, as few had gone through this experience. Because many people didn’t know I was pregnant, I certainly wasn’t comfortable telling them I had miscarried. It was hard being so sad and not letting people know why. I also did not have a significant other to help me through this.

Coincidentally, I was supposed to go to the mountains for a week three weeks after I miscarried. I debated about taking the trip, mostly, because my friend I was going with didn’t know about the miscarriage, and I wasn’t ready to tell her. In the end, I went and here’s what I discovered. The mountains bring me peace, when nothing else can.

The first day, we hiked 10 miles. My friend talked, and I sometimes listened. (She talked a lot!) After not exercising at all for three weeks, I was quite sore when we were done. The second day, we hiked two different trails, amounting to 8.5 miles. While I was still sore, I found that each step I took seemed to turn my sadness into a kind of peace. The third day, we hiked a little less, and then split up so I could kayak and she could horseback ride. That was the best day I think I have ever experienced, in a weird way. I cried some on the lake, but for the first time in a month, my tears were cleansing, not painful reminders.

On day four, as my body was significantly less sore, we took our greatest adventure and hiked high into the mountains. We found two sheep who decided to block our path and then pose for us on rocks. As I watched those sheep, I couldn’t stop laughing. It was real laughter for the first time in a month. Beginning on the sixth day, I was on my own, as my friend and I parted ways. I joined a hiking group and ended up getting snowed on when we reached the top of the mountain. As I am from the South, and it was hot as can be down there, I was so excited to see snow. It somehow gave me hope. On the seventh day (and last), I hiked a well populated trail, and somehow managed to spend the entire day thinking positively about the future.

When I returned home, several people commented that they had never seen me looking so peaceful and rested. And, I realized that’s what the mountains did for me. Since I have been back, my days of being a “wanna be” athlete are gone. Whether it’s through biking, hiking or kayaking, I need the mountains.