Recently, I had the “opportunity” to participate in what was called “The Three Peaks Challenge.” This was to be a 23 mile circular walk (which means once you start you have to keep on going to get back to your car) that included three of the highest peaks in Surrey, England. All of the other participants were donating their time and legs for charity. Since I was a guest, I was only aiming for bragging rights and survival. Being a native Californian, the word “peak” created an image that made me tired just thinking about it. The thought of three peaks made my knees weak (one of which was already what the Brits call “dodgy"). I was going to use that knee to my advantage if I began to tire. I wore an Ace knee brace to draw attention and sympathy and lend some credibility to my “dodgy” knee story.
As you can see, I did survive and did so based on two fortuitous occurrences. First, the Brits are extremely generous with their terms and the word “peak” was loosely used. These were actually three of the highest “hills” in Surrey. The first, Leith Hill measured 965 feet, which is 255 feet smaller than the Empire State Building. The second, Holmbury Hill is the fourth highest hill and comes in at a fighting height of 856 feet, and the third, Pitch Hill, is hard to calculate because no internet site wants to give away its diminutive stature.
The second bit of good fortune was . . . we got lost. Now for most that would mean miles of endless wandering, adding to an already long day. However, for us it meant we missed a turn and thereby inadvertently shaved seven miles off of the intended walk and finished the day with only 16 miles under our hiking boots—not 23. No one was disappointed as it turned out to be an eight hour walking day anyway, and the challenge was to do the three peaks, not the mileage.
Regardless, the company was wonderful and the views gorgeous (or to use another British term—“lovely.”)
If I were to pull a spiritual application from this it would simply be that sometimes our fearful anticipation of a challenge never comes to fruition. The difficulty or pain we dread never materializes. In its place is a wonderful journey.
As you can see, I did survive and did so based on two fortuitous occurrences. First, the Brits are extremely generous with their terms and the word “peak” was loosely used. These were actually three of the highest “hills” in Surrey. The first, Leith Hill measured 965 feet, which is 255 feet smaller than the Empire State Building. The second, Holmbury Hill is the fourth highest hill and comes in at a fighting height of 856 feet, and the third, Pitch Hill, is hard to calculate because no internet site wants to give away its diminutive stature.
The second bit of good fortune was . . . we got lost. Now for most that would mean miles of endless wandering, adding to an already long day. However, for us it meant we missed a turn and thereby inadvertently shaved seven miles off of the intended walk and finished the day with only 16 miles under our hiking boots—not 23. No one was disappointed as it turned out to be an eight hour walking day anyway, and the challenge was to do the three peaks, not the mileage.
Regardless, the company was wonderful and the views gorgeous (or to use another British term—“lovely.”)
If I were to pull a spiritual application from this it would simply be that sometimes our fearful anticipation of a challenge never comes to fruition. The difficulty or pain we dread never materializes. In its place is a wonderful journey.
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