Every year on the 1st of July (or at least as close as we can get to the 1st), I (hello again, it’s Jen C. here!), my two sisters, and my mom, Jan Held (who you all know and love), take a trip to a State Park in honor and remembrance of Daniel Connelly. He was tragically taken from us eight years ago, and the four of us getting together to celebrate his life has been, and always will be, a way that we grieve, celebrate, and remember how wonderful of a brother and son Daniel was. Plus he loved hiking. We went hiking A LOT when we were kids. I vividly remember many trips to Turkey Run and other parks when I was little with my siblings and my parents. If you were too little or tired to hike the whole trail, one of my parents would carry you on their backs. We sometimes brought our dog, Scuffy, with us, too. I remember it feeling like a different world. A world in which I could play, be close to my family, and go on a proper adventure. Which, it still is. It is a part of my childhood that has become a core memory and shaped my love of the outdoors for the rest of my life. 

Let me establish a few things before I tell you about our trip this year. First, I haven’t been to Turkey Run in quite some time, and my childhood memories did not include anything “scary.” We usually go to Starved Rock, which is a great park, but it’s mostly stairs, and it’s less of an adventure. Also, I have a fear of heights. We are talking vertigo, anxiety, thoughts of falling and hitting my head, which I can’t shake from my mind. You know the drill. Third, I forgot how crazy some of the trails were there. In my mind, they were pretty tame, and I could always do all of it with ease. But that’s a memory from the mind of a child for you- I was little, I had my parent’s help, and climbing and jumping were easier, as it so often is when you are a child (ever seen a kid tackle monkey bars or climb a tree and think “hmmm… I could do that,” and then it’s way more challenging as an adult?). And lastly, I’m really really glad that I work out. Now that we are on the same page with where my head was at before we started hiking that day let me tell you about Trail 3.

I should have known it wouldn’t be a literal walk in the park. I remember when I was a kid, my sister stepped into a sinkhole, and my parents had to pull her out. At the time, I thought she was going to drown, but of course, that was silly with my parents right there. Another time, our dog Scuffy ran ahead (on the easy part of the trail) with Daniel and me, and that dog straight up leaped off of the cliff. It gave my parents quite the scare; Daniel and I let out blood-curdling screams, and they bolted towards us, thinking it was one of us that leaped off. Daniel was a climber- he would climb anything if you let him. Fortunately for us and for Scuffy, the edge was above the water (although pretty high up, honestly), and people were canoeing below who scooped up our somehow unharmed dog and brought him to shore. Yet, somehow, I was mentally unprepared for how much would actually be required of my mind and body to hike Trail 3 (and 9, which we had to divert to because of me; I’ll get to that). 

That being said, if you’ve never been to Turkey Run, I suggest you go. It’s a beautiful park, with much of it being touted as “prehistoric Indiana.” Incredible views of the canyons and the river, and the trails range from easy to trails that include a warning to “use extreme caution.” We like adventure in this family, so we go on the rugged trails. Trail 3 is one of those trails. With its sheer drop-offs, paths leading straight up the middle of the canyon, and plenty of obstacles, I can see why it comes with a warning. 

I have a bad habit of not trusting my body. Why I think I’ll randomly fall off of things when I’ve never just randomly fallen in my life, I do not know. Add that to the fact that I am still recovering from a hip injury from last year that just randomly happened on a run and the fact that I used to have weak ankles, and you have one trepidacious 34-year-old. Like most trails, it starts off pretty easy, with the path clearly identifiable. Then you cross a bridge, which one of my sisters didn’t care for, but I surprisingly did okay. After that, things start to get a little rough. The trail leads you up the middle of a canyon with running water, so you’re climbing running waterfalls, jumping across logs and stones to avoid getting wet up to your shins, and hurdling yourself over huge rocks and fallen trees. The brevity with which my mom and sisters pushed forward was impressive. I was trailing behind and being more cautious. Initially, I wasn’t sure if my shoes would have enough grip, but the more steps I took, the more I trusted myself and my shoes. I got creative to avoid cliff edges, which meant a lot of movements that I wouldn’t have been able to do if I hadn’t been strength training. I got used to being just a little bit scared, and I started to have fun. At my mom’s request, I remembered that I was strong and capable and started to become confident, and I did a lot of things that I didn’t think I could do.

I felt like I was on American Ninja Warrior. Things, however, took a sharp turn.

We were supposed to go in the direction that would take us UP the ladders, not down. There is a big difference here for someone who is afraid of heights. Staring down those ladders, knowing you are going to have to turn around and lower yourself down, not to mention that you HAVE to look down (there is no “just don’t look down” here, my friends), was a recipe for disaster for me. My mom and sisters- they are braver than I am. They went around the ladder via a narrow path, but that was too much for me. So, I decided that I would conquer the first ladder. The first ladder had a lot more to hold on to as you lowered yourself down. My mom went first. She made it look easy, but I was still scared, and I could feel my body filling with anxiety. I am proud of myself for taking on the first ladder. Did I like it? No. Did it require quite a bit of coaching and reassurance from my mom? Yes. But did I do it? Hell yeah, I did! But then… the second ladder. This one was different than the first. 

It was impossible to see what was below unless you got right up to it because the drop was so steep. And I was already pretty shaken up from the first one. I knew I was strong enough actually to go down the ladder, but vertigo set in with a healthy dose of anxiety, and I realized that I couldn’t trust my mind. I feel bad for my littlest sister- she climbed down that second ladder like a boss even though she was scared (my mom went first, of course, without batting an eye). While they were waiting for me, my other sister kindly took me aside and helped me calm down from what was now a panic attack. She deserves several gold stars for her empathy and ability to be so fully present. She coached me through the panic, but we decided that we weren’t going to continue. There was a third ladder after the second, and I just couldn’t do it. My mom and my sister came back up. 

We detoured. Even though everyone was understanding, I felt horrible and small for holding us back from the rest of Trail 3. But that detour took us to trail 9 (and part of 11, I think), which came with a caution warning as well. Pretty much everything was preferable to the ladders at this point, so despite the cliff edges, rough terrain, and decent amount of maneuvering around obstacles on narrow paths, I had a great time. We hiked for HOURS, which added up to about 5 miles without a break. I know that before I started working out, I would never have enjoyed that hike. Despite my initial mistrust, my body’s ability to do challenging things and really enjoy it amazed me. Even though I couldn’t bring myself to go down those two stinking ladders, I did all of the other things that I was scared of. And I did ONE ladder, which was, for me, a huge accomplishment.  And next year? Next year, we will go in the direction on Trail 3 which leads us UP the ladders, and I am determined to do it. 

The moral of this story? Do scary things and do them knowing that as long as you prepare your body, you’ll be ok. It is ok to know your limits, and it’s ok to take detours, but when you don’t, and you do the scary thing instead, you’ll gain confidence in your body and your mind, and you might even have some fun. Now, excuse me while I get ahold of my mom and ask her for a workout plan to prepare myself for next year’s adventure!