The Top of the Mountain

“We’re going to climb up that?”

The sun was shining brightly in cloudless sky on a hot November afternoon in Hawaii. Koko Crater had no trees. It wasn’t wet with last night’s rain to offer any relief from the heat. It was a hot dusty dry trail, dotted with a sprinkling of low dry shrubs.

I looked up at the long steep trail made of what looked like wooden steps straight up to the top of the mountain.

I’m going to climb that in this heat? How far is it to the top? I wondered, then pushed the thought aside and started walking up toward the trail

The Koko Crater hike was an old rusty rail road track that led up a steady steep climb to the top of Koko Crater.

Kirstie, my Daughter-in law, led the way and skipped up the sand covered trail to the first wooden step. Wayne followed, just a few steps behind Kirstie.

I’m going to climb up ALL those steps?

I wondered then took my first step, then the next and the next.

“No problem,” I thought as we started. The steps at the bottom were spaced about 18 inches apart. Each step we took was elevated just a little higher. I continued to climb.

As we continued the climb, the steps got steeper. The heat of the sun was beating down my back and through my hat. My throat was dry. Heavy beads of sweat were dripping from my forehead and back. I stepped off to the side to let a hiker climb past me, and took a gulp of water. The sweet cool taste of the water seemed to help just a bit.

A fair skinned Asian man dressed in nothing but a pair of bright red and white running shorts slowly stepped down towards us, step by step. He was going down the mountain. His legs were shaking. He held his head back slightly, and wiped his brow with the back of his hand. His eyes were half closed. I could see tiny droplets of sweat dripping down his forehead and on to his face and chest.

“Are you OK?” Asked Kirstie.

The man shook his head and said nothing then continued to stumble past us down the mountain.

Seeing the shaking man left a knot in my gut.

“Keep going,” I whispered.

I could almost hear Jason our gym coach cheering us on, “Don’t stop! Don’t stop! Keep going!”

“Keep going,” I reminded myself again.

I continued up the hill one step at a time. Some of the steps were missing, and someone had placed a flat stone in their spaces. Some steps were cracked, creaky and wobbly.

“10 steps at a time,” said Kirstie as. “If you pace it at 10 steps at a time it’s easier.”

I stepped to the side off the track, sat down on a rock and took another gulp of sweet cool water, then wiped the sweat off my brow.

A young couple stepped up past me and continued the long trek up the mountain.

I stood up took a deep breath and continued to climb.

As the climb continued, the steps got steeper. Step by step I picked up my right leg and placed the bottom of my foot on the top surface of the step, then pulled my heavy sweaty body up to the next level.

Two young men dressed in bright orange and blue running shorts, neon Nike shoes and tank tops ran past us, up towards the top of the mountain.

I looked up at the top of the mountain. The steps felt like they went on forever. The back of my calves and thighs were beginning to ache as I continued to push my weight up towards the top.

How long had we been climbing? I wondered. Would I make it to the top? Could I make it to the top without getting overheated or dizzy? What if I fell off the mountain?

I had already taken at least 15 rest stops and gone through every drop of water in my bottle. I could feel my head getting a little frazzled, and was hoping the heat would not overpower me.

“Keep going,” I whispered again.

Kirstie had gone ahead of us. She was sitting down on one of the railroad ties, waiting for Wayne and I.

What am I doing? I wondered. At 62 years old, should I even be hiking this never ending mountain?

“Don’t stop! Don’t stop!” Again I could hear Jason’s voice as if we were in Friday spin class at the gym.

“Don’t stop. Keep going,” I said again to self.

The two runners we had seen before were now walking back down the mountain. Their bright orange and blue running shorts were drenched with sweat.

Did they quit? I wondered. There was no way they could have made it all the way to the top and back down again in that short amount of time.

“Wow,” said Wayne, “They quit! They turned around and now they’re going back down.”

Several others turned around at the half way point and headed back down the steep wooden steps. I could see the half hearted daze in their eyes as they dragged their feet and bodies back down the mountain.

I looked up and took a breath. Kirstie was standing at the top of the steps waving back at us. She then began to step back down towards Wayne and I.

“Karen it’s only 30 steps from here. You can do it. Do it for the Gummy Bear Team! Do it for your sister.”

“OK,” I said. “I can make it all the way to the top if I do it for the Gummy Bears and for Kathy. I made it this far. I’m not giving up now.”

Some how, making a promise for the young people I loved, my son and the Gummy Bear Paintball Team and for my sister who was fighting a battle with cancer, gave me the will to go on. There was no way I would let myself fail.

With an unexpected burst of energy I continued to climb all the way to the top of the mountain.

Hot, dizzy and drenched in my own salty sweat, I stood at the top of the mountain. It was beautiful. At the top of the mountain I could see the deep blue ocean and the dark green jagged edges of the island. I could see the little town below and tiny cars moving down the highways. At the top of the mountain, the air was fresh and cooler, the clouds formed overhead and provided a much welcomed shade from the sun.

Looking down from the top of the mountain, I felt last if I was looking down at another world below.

I took a seat at the top of the mountain and turned to find Wayne just behind me.

“Here” he said, and handed me a bottle of water.

“Don’t you want it?” I asked.

“No. I knew you would need it.”

I took a long drink of the cool water. We sat for a few minutes, catching our breath, taking in the breathtaking view of the ocean and the green valley below.

By the time we got down the mountain, down all 1050 make-shift steps, I was hot, exhausted and a little shaky. The muscles in my calves, the front of my thighs and the unknown spaces in my hips were sore and achy. The hair beneath my sun hat was drenched. I could feel the heavy beads of salty hot sweat dripping down my neck, my forehead and onto my shoulders and arms. I didn’t care. I was happy that I made it to the top. I was happy we all made it all the way up the 1050 step climb to the top of Koko Crater in the blazing hot sun in Hawaii.

As we walked toward the car I remembered. In a sense, I had trained for the climb up Koko Crater. I trained in my dreams. Every Friday morning in spin class we raced up imaginary hills and mountains on our spin bikes with Jason’s thundering voice at our lead.

“Give it all you got! Don’t stop! Leave what’s holding you back behind you and go all the way to the top!”

Every Friday morning with Jason’s voice leading the way on our spin bikes, I closed my eyes and let my imagination fly. Sweat dripping down my brow and onto my hands, thighs burning with my feet strapped into the pedals of the spin bike I cycled as fast as I could, climbing up imaginary mountains.

I imagined winning. I dreamed of making it all the way to the top, whatever that meant to me in that moment of time. I could see my son Cody on the turf lined paintball tournament field sneaking up from behind a yellow vinyl bunker moving up the field like a cat ready to pounce on his prey. He was running on tip-toes, with is gun aimed and ready, keeping his lanky body crouched down just enough to remain invisible.

“Go Cody! Go!” I whispered.

I could see young Georgie behind the back bunker, a 6’ tall vinyl cylinder. I saw flashing glimpse of his head peeking out, then he was running full speed ahead to the front of the field. I could see Doan crawling on his forearms and knees, moving up along the long low snake bunker.

“Go Georgie. Go Doan!”

I could see my sister Kathy, her bright smiling face was pink with new life. She was standing on a mountain top, with her arms spread up to bless the sky. Her shiny black hair was blowing gently in the breeze. She was radiant with new life.

“Yay Kathy! You did it! You did it!”

I could see myself running past a line of trees pulling ahead of a small crowd of people behind me.

“Go! Go! Go Karen Go! Don’t stop! Go”

With my eyes still closed to see the imaginary vision I could feel the sweet thrill of victory tingling through every cell of my body.

By the time the song stopped playing I had dreamed myself and the people in my life all the way to the finish line. Today the finish line was the top of the mountain that I wasn’t sure I could climb without passing out from the heat.

Looking back on my life,every success I lived began with a Dream. I had been dreaming my way up imaginary mountains and envisioning my way past finish lines for the past 10 years. It was a mental process that I didn’t realize we were learning in Dorothy’s classes back in 2008.

Actively dreaming the way to success is a process we can do in our minds that makes impossible dreams possible, if we can only remember the dream.

Is that what Dad was telling us in his final message?

Is that what Dorothy was telling us with the sign on the classroom wall, “What you focus on expands”?