My sister, Kat, and I began walking up the gravel road. Bristol Mountain, a ski resort in upstate New York, provided an ideal location for a springtime hike. With 1,300 feet of elevation in 1.7 miles, we anticipated some exertion. My brother-in-law and his cousin ran on ahead, planning to take a lap at the top and run back down a slope. They left us with Mickey and Molly, two lab/Pomeranian mixes whose well-groomed coats glimmered in the morning sunlight.
We weren’t far up the path when I realized I’d forgotten to eat. A small protein shake upon rising requires that I eat mid-morning to maintain blood sugar levels. I’d planned to fry up some bacon as an easy, portable snack. Neglecting to do so put me in a compromised position.
Kat asked if I wanted to go back. I didn’t. Picturesque hills in shades of green, a cyan sky with bright white clouds, and my love of hiking urged me on. Would my body cooperate for the duration when running on empty? To help, Kat took over both dog leashes.
Then I remembered reading about the power of the creative imagination. In many circumstances, what we imagine can be as powerful as actual physical practice. Think of the Olympic athlete who rehearses a high dive or floor routine over and over in the mind, experiencing every bodily sensation, to prepare for the Games. OK, I thought. Let’s test this out. I’ll imagine eating bacon and see what happens!
I first tasted salt, and my salivary glands physically responded. Good, I thought, an electrolyte. Then I savored the crispy texture, as make-believe pieces broke apart in my mouth and the hickory-smoked flavor dissolved into my senses.
Up ahead on the trail, we noticed an orange plastic fence blocking the road. If the gravel pathway to the top was closed, now what? The only option was to trudge directly up the slope under the chairlift. We began plodding. In full sun and tall grass, I soon felt the cardio workout and stopped to catch my breath. Molly sweetly circled back to check on me.
When we finally reached the summit, we crossed to a slope on the far side, assuming the descent would be easier. But with grass at thigh level, and uneven ground, we had to watch our every step. Only brief glimpses of the scenic valley landscape took my attention off my complaining knees.
Near the bottom, the guys walked up to meet us. Their run had been rigorous, but successful. I asked how they navigated the road closure and was told the fencing we saw didn’t actually cross the roadway, though it appeared so from a distance.
I’m not sure why Kat and I had to take a steeper shortcut rather than a gentler grade. But my body held out. Back at the car I downed a coconut water, surprised at my physical endurance and chuckling to myself at the power of imaginary bacon.