The Joy of Moving

Last night I was researching a hike in the North Cascades. I came across pictures taken by some guys who climbed a peak in the area during the winter. The pictures featured blinding expanses of snow, sweeping, steep snow fields and little dots connected with lines across the snow (climbers linked by ropes). It was a sunny day. In nearly every picture, you could not miss the implied exertion required to be where these guys were. Every step up that steep snowfield at that elevation required serious breathing. After climbing for 30 or 40 minutes, or an hour or two, the legs begin to burn. Still, in every picture where you could see someone's face, they were smiling. It got me to thinking.
I've done some winter hiking in the Cascades. I've spent hours laboriously kicking steps with my snowshoes as we inched our way up an interminable snow field. There is the constant tug-of-war between the heat generation from your muscles and the heat sucking effect of wind and frigid temperature. You try to get just the right balance of enough clothes to avoid getting cold while avoiding excessive sweating. After awhile on a really steep slope you begin to think of nothing except reaching the top and being done.
It seems like a crazy exercise. Why not just take a helicopter to the summit?

If you done it, you know the answer. There is a mysterious, deep satisfaction in the exertion, in the repetitive motion of marching up a mountain. It is not just the exhilaration of standing on the summit. There is a soul-stirring gladness in the climbing itself. It is an experience available only to those who do it. You cannot have that experience from watching someone else do it or reading about it. there is a priceless, deep satisfaction that you can no only in the doing.

It's the same with body-surfing, running, yoga. You challenge yourself. You push yourself. You deliberately disturb your own comfort. You embrace discomfort in order to experience the satisfaction, the fun, the enjoyment that comes beyond the discomfort. At first, maybe, you do it only because someone is urging you. A friend, a coach, your doctor. Later, your own experience testifies to the sweet satisfaction that comes in the doing. Not merely from the doing, though, of course, that is also true. But in the doing. You find yourself delighting in the sheer physically of the motion. Our bodies were made to reach, to run, to stretch, to move. When we engage in intense physical activity our bodies rejoice. We rejoice. It is good.

So do it already.