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Varje månad köper jag Trail, en bergsvandrartidning - den bästa, ifall du frågar mig. I varje nummer finns en liten ruta kallad "Hill Zen" och den är månadens höjdpunkt. Helt kanon. Det är där man får sina små egenlärda läxor bekräftade (fråga aldrig, aldrig, aldrig hur långt det är kvar!), det är där man finner de riktigt viktiga tipsen (hur man delar tält utan att döda varandra) och det är där man får tröst; man är inte ensam... Månadens Zen-lektion är så suverän att jag bara måste återge den i helhet.

Det här är för alla er - alla oss - som svär att "det här var fanimig sista gången"...

The really, really steep bit
Your lungs feel like two Brillo Pads. Ahead, the summit dances crazily in your vision as you fight gravity with faltering, two-up, one-back steps. Stinging sweat swarms into your eyes, and a rhythmic wheeze fills your ears along with the chiding, half-wheezed, half-thought mantra:
why? Why? Why? Why?

Never again. Ever. This is it. You were a fool, you were. There is no logical need to put your body through this sort of pain. It doesn't even serve a purpose. You're not actually going anywhere except up the thing and back to the start again. You're not being paid. And this is where it ends: two-thousand-odd feet up the side of a pile of Scottish rubble, at the really, really steep bit just below the summit.

You've been doing this for years, and it's lunacy really, isn't it? Yep, that's probably the thing to do... stop, put your hands on you knees, open your mouth wide and incline your straining eyes towards the summit. It's there, somewhere. You could give up. Nobody would ever know. But since you will never, ever, ever, ever even think about doing this again, you might as well get to the top. One last time, you know, for tradition's sake. It mustn't be too much furth... oh. You're here. Crikey that's a view, isn't it? Ooh, and that's a nice breeze. Smell that air. Blimey, that peak across the valley looks good from here. How long 'til sundown? Oh. Oh, well... next time.
Zen; Suffering hurts, but is temporary. Rewards don't, and they linger. Think about it.

(Trail; August 2007, s.22)

Amen. Ingen gillar att gå upp, men alla älskar att tänka tillbaka på den fantastiska utsikten från toppen. Och nu när jag tänker på saken så måste jag nog förklara varför man aldrig ska fråga hur långt det är kvar. För att citera en känd film: "You want the truth? You can't handle the truth!"

Eller:

The distance check
"How far left to go, dude?"
Make no mistake: this is the most dangerous question that can be asked in a hill situation. It's like asking your parents whether you were an accident, or your partner if their eyes ever 'wander': it rarely has a positive outcome. And on the hill, the relationship between body and mind is like a chandelier with a frayed cord, waiting to fall and shatter.

Example:
Mind: "Right, Body. Roy says we only have two miles left. You can start shutting down now."
Body: "Crikey, about time. I actually thought we had further to go than that, but now you mention it I am a bit knackered, so cheers."

Two miles later this relationship is put to the test.

Mind: "Body?"
Body: "Zzzzzzzzzzzzzz."

Mind: "Body, wake up! We're not there yet. Roy was wrong. We've got another two miles to go. And it's getting dark."

Body: "Zzzz... unngghwha? Are you crazy? No. No chance. I went and let my guard down. Let myself get sore. Tired. And you? You said I could relax. You went back on your word. How could you? How could you?"

Mind: "Please... I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you. Give you a bath. Good food. A Swedish massage. Please... just keep going a little further. I can't do this without you."

Body: "Okay. But I'm really going to make you suffer every step of the way for this. Every... single... step."

Zen; Never ask. Ever. Assume it's always further, then the worst that can happen is a pleasant surprise.

(Trail, April 2007, s. 20)

Alla vi som varit uppe i bergen vet att du aldrig går ensam; det är du, din kropp och din hjärna. Och ni har inte alltid samma ork och vilja... Det bästa är att de små liven kan luras. Fråga mina knän om ni inte tror mig!