You know, I’m really not much of a hiker. In fact, I jokingly refer to myself as “the lazy hiker,” I’m really in it more for the benefits and the rewards, not to push or challenge myself in any way. My favorite hikes are those with low impact, high reward; NOT the type described as grueling, difficult or perilous. I do not want to sweat and strain for 12 hours, eat beans out of a can, sleep on a rooty ground in a sleeping bag that I’ve schlepped on my back all day, get up after an uncomfortable, mosquito orgy, sleepless night, eat a peanut butter sandwich, and do it all over again. Nope.
See, what I like is a 4-5 hour (max! Round trip!) walk, a lightweight day-pack on my back, my phone in my hand, or in my handy hip pocket, so that I can document in pictures unusual findings, picturesque spots, or particularly difficult sections. I don’t mind sweating a little, and I don’t mind a few arduous climbs, even those that require “3 points of contact,” for safety, as long as they are brief, and there is a lengthy leveled off section so that I can catch my breath and so that my quads can stop burning. 
And then…the reward. the summit. It needs to be awesome, it needs to be breathtaking and I need to capture it all, including selfies, so that I can post them later. I like to linger for a bit, and bask in my athletic prowess, my nature loving-ness, and my tenacity and then I like to go back down and find a pub, preferably with a deck outside and have an appetizer and a cocktail. See? Low impact, high reward. My workout is done for the day (actually, maybe two days), I’ve spent some quality time with my husband, and with nature, and I have social media fodder galore. Win/win/win.
My husband, on the other hand, is of the “push yourself” variety of weirdos. He’s the sort of person who loves to see how much his body can endure; how many miles he can cover (he did the 100 mile wilderness for funsies), how long he can handle the discomfort of the beginning stages of trench foot (literally happened to him one rainy June) and how much suffering it will take before he longs to come home. He likes to reach summits, but more as a personal badge of honor, instead of the public one that I like to display. 
When he comes home from these days or weeks-long adventures, he loves to sit on the couch and say, “This is great! I haven’t sat in comfort for days!” His fondest wish is to hike the whole AT, preferably with me by his side. Not happening (Umm, unless maybe some desperate cable network, would care to fund this fantastic folly, in a big way. I promise, “The Bickersons” can, and will deliver on the guilty-pleasure, reality show type showdown daily, or at least per episode.).
I had a little time to ponder our differences, as well as the similarities between hiking and life in general, on our journey up Mt. Battie, today (a hike for me, a walk for him, which with a few wrong turns, a couple extra trails, and lots of switchbacks, turned into almost an 8 mile hike. Ugh.). The pace at which we climb, the baggage we carry, the people we choose to bring with us, the level of complaining, or not, that is done when the going gets tough, the wrong turns, and dead ends that you face, the roots and rocks that must be navigated, the people we help to reach the top, and the ones who help us… all of it could be compared to our own journey through life.
Of course the summit of life for many of us would be Heaven. Literally, and figuratively. I hope to hear the words, when I reach the apex, “well done, good and faithful servant,” and to hear Him say that to my fellow climbers too. That would be the ultimate reward, especially for this lazy hiker.
