What happens when determination overcomes logic?
For the last couple months, I have wanted to make it my habit to workout in the gym during the week, and then on Saturdays (when I typically do not have many obligations) to walk or hike out in the woods by Harris Lake--out in the backwater corner of the county. There's rarely many people there, and it's a nice place to just get out and breathe.
But over the last few weeks, I hadn't really made it out to the lake at all. So when I woke up yesterday morning, I decided that I really wanted to go. And since I hadn't spent as much time in the gym as I'd hoped, and didn't feel like going to the gym to make up for it, going for a nice long walk in the woods seemed like a good idea.
The only problem was that it was really cloudy and had been raining for the last several days. (Such persistent rain is uncommon here, something that really only happens in the springtime... I should've known better.) But since it wasn't actually raining, I thought that this Saturday would just be cloudy, and not rainy. So I got dressed--in addition to my headscarf my shirt had a hood in case it rained "a bit," and had on my boots on, ready for walking on slightly muddy lumpy terrain--and drove out to the lake.
And I started heading into the woods, intending to take the long trail, although I didn't have a map with me. And I went where I thought the trail was, dodging puddles which consumed the entire path, requiring me on many occasions to quit the path entirely, and on other places to walk on fallen trees to avoid mud and slush that would have swallowed my boots.
But I kept thinking that the further I got in, the less trouble I'd have on the trail, because fewer people would have gone in so far. But then, after about 20 minutes, it started raining. Turn around? Nah, I figured it would stop soon. So I kept going, and then I found the trail looping back on itself. (I clearly took a wrong turn.)
But then I had a decision--either to keep going further down the trail, or to head back. Thinking it wouldn't be raining for much longer, and since the rain was still pretty light, I decided to keep going. And the rain steadily got heavier and heavier. I came across a kind of shelter there on the trail--a board that had been erected describing the life cycle of a certain kind of tree. I stayed there a little while, since it had a sort of overhang on either side, under which I could stand without getting wet.
But after about 10 minutes of that, I realized that the rain wouldn't be letting up any time soon. So I had the choice to continue my hike anyway--suffering puddles that would only get worse, while getting soaked from the rain, as it would probably take me two hours more to go to that direction. Or, I could turn back and spend another 30 minutes in the rain but then be at my car.
I decided to turn back. It seemed easier dodging puddles on the way back, though. I snapped the picture above as I was almost back, showing the way most of the path was--just really muddy like that. I wish I'd gotten some pictures of the puddles spanning the whole trail but I wasn't about to head back into the woods by the time I thought of taking pictures. By then I was soaking wet from head to ankle (my feet weren't wet, thanks to my super-duper hiking boots.
Sometimes I think life is like that--like getting caught in the rain, stuck in the middle of the woods by yourself. You might find a place where you can be safe for a little while, but you can't stay there. You've got to extricate yourself somehow--and it might be unpleasant. But I can think of how much time I might have wasted not doing anything, just waiting for the rain to stop. I could've waited an hour, and it would still be raining. I would have had to leave eventually, and spend that 30-40 minutes walking in the rain to get to my car. Sometimes the tough-and-dirty route is the only way--and procastinating won't making it any easier, but will just waste your time.