Knowing Your Limits

It was by and large my idea. On the way to Westport for Valentines weekend I suggested to Bert that we climb Croagh Patrick on the Saturday.

"Off you pop", he replied whilst simultaneously driving, eating chocolate and taking the cap off a bottle of seven up.

I was not to be deterred.

"We should do it together," I persisted.  "I packed my walking boots".

"Good for you", he replied.

The next day I was reminded of this conversation as I sat on a rock, about one quarter way up the mountain, totally out of breath and with the horrible realisation that I was way, way unfitter than I thought.  The reluctant climber who had shown no inkling of an interest in climbing Croagh Patrick had disappeared up the reek like a mountain goat. His sister Catherine, who walks regularly and is a very fit person had also gone on ahead as had her husband Johnny, who we had christened the Reek Veteran as this was about his eight climb.

As for me, the reek virgin, I knew from a very early stage I was not going to make it anyway near the top.

I felt embarrassed by my lack of fitness, and also that I was holding everyone else up so I told them to go on ahead. The mountain goat (sorry I mean husband) did give a token display of solidarity and protested that he couldn't leave me on my own and would come back down with me. I insisted he carry on, I would be fine, I'd catch my breath and meet them back at the car park.

So I sat in the early Spring sunshine and  allowed my breathing to come back to normal. The quiet stillness of the mountain enveloped me, broken occassionally by snatches of conversations as walkers passed me either on the way up or down the mountain. Above me I could see the trail of people like ants ascending the rock face where the grass and rocky incline gave way to shingle and shale. Below me the bay glissened in the midday sun and the fields stretched to my left and right like an emerald patchwork quilt.

I was disappointed that I wasn't in fit enough shape to try for the summit. Part of me was saying, go on push yourself and then I realised I would just be killing myself just so I could say I reached the top. There would be no enjoyment in it. As it was I was thoroughly enjoying sitting in the sunshine, on a beautiful day, enjoying a magnificent view.

Sometimes its more about enjoying the journey than reaching the destination.