By Nici Holt Cline
Andy is home on Fridays. This past week, however, he had an appointment and it was when he was gone when he is usually there that I realized how much I rely on that change in our Monday-Thursday routine. How much my kids rely on it. All three of us were twitchy, needing a break. There was a collective exhale when papa got home and Andy, recognizing my grumpiness, promptly said, um, babe, why don’t you go somewhere and do something. Yeah, my thoughts exactly.
I ran work-related errands and went bra shopping. It wasn’t what I needed. I needed to do something for me, something that wasn’t on my to-do list. So, again at my husband’s sweet encouragement, I went somewhere and did something.
I grabbed my running shoes and got in the car. I drove in silence under the August sky heading toward one of the dozens of trails that hug my city. I made a few phone calls to see if I could swing by and grab a friend to hike with before I realized I didn’t want a friend to hike with. Or, rather, I wanted to hike with my own friendship.
I landed at the Mount Sentinel trailhead. I haven’t hiked the “M” in many years, mostly because in 2001 Andy resolutely declared that he would never do it again. He said that if there is a hell, surely it involves a never-ending switchback on Mount Sentinel (my man’s not a hiker unless it is a journey to fish or ski).
I, however, have a long, nostalgic history with the “M.” My first memories of hiking are on that mountain when my family would pack lunch and back-and-forth our way up to the giant concrete letter. It took hours. It felt like a 16-mile journey to my five year-old legs. We’d sit on the curve of the upper right “M” and identify my parent’s childhood homes. My dad told stories of skiing over the “M” before high school.
I had some guilt. I didn’t bring anyone with me, not even my dog Alice. I felt selfish. But I remembered I had been feeling resentful of every creature’s need of me and I reminded myself that me time is not only acceptable but entirely encouraged. I started hiking.
The sun was hot and it fueled my legs. I was powerful on that dirt. The more-than-a-century-old trail that my grandparents and parents hiked, the trail my daughters will hike. Margot has already told me it’s her mountain. Mama! Look! M for Margot! That’s my mountain, right? The guilt escaped with my sweat and the earth absorbed my grumpiness. I felt alive and radiant. I sat at the top and studied Missoula. It was hard to find my grandparents’ homes. The trees are bigger now.
I wasn’t gone long and I wondered why I don’t give myself space more often. I wondered why I get to the same place of wonderment every so often. I promised myself and my family I would prioritize my alone time. I returned with fresh oxygen in my blood and a fresh perspective. When I walked in the door I was greeted by my little loves and a husband who were also all recharged. We were all better for my time away.
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A fourth generation Montanan raising a fifth, Nici Holt Cline is a mama to Margot and Ruby, wife, gardener, crafter and runner who loves to write and take photos. She writes regularly on her popular blog dig this chick. You can read “Mama Digs” every Monday exclusively at www.mamalode.com. Read more of Nici’s mamalode articles here.
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I had a much needed day to myself on Sunday. My husband took the kids fishing and huckleberry picking. One of the things I did, besides working, cleaning and organizing our new home, is hike the M by myself.
Isn’t it nice that the hills surrounding Missoula are in honor of our daughters?
Lucie thinks the “L” is for her too
It was wonderful to finally meet you last week.
This brought back many fond memories. It warms my heart that the little things we did when you were a child are important to you and that you will carry on these traditions with my granddaughters.
Alone time is the best. I just asked your dad this morning if he was traveling this week…YES he is!
xoxo
oh yeah. alone time is so important. i went to yoga on saturday and felt so guilty on my way there, and then so filled-up and ready to give on my way back home. we can’t give from a place of emptiness . . .
This really spoke to me, too. I just got back from an overnight backpack trip with my sister-in-law. The stillness of the mountains and songs of the birds was the most amazing 24 hours I have had in a LONG time. I am convinced I am better at everything I do when I honor that time for my soul.
Great post, and beautiful pictures!
I remember one of my trips up to the M was right after my geography class and a bowl of chili in my freshman year. That was a mistake!! I got a terrible stomach ache after reaching the top and was afraid I would not make it down in time!! I was pretty much running and trying to see what was available as far as cover (not much) if I were to need it. I remember making it to the science building – this is 1971- much to my relief!!
Yes alone time is needed and cherished. Thus my trip to Yellowstone by myself this past Saturday, if one can really be alone in Yellowstone Park. A mother of 2 requires alone time. Get it every Friday or any time you can grab it. You deserve it!!
How I love your stories and voice Nici Holt Cline. I love all the voices of mamalode and it makes me long for the west with my heart in my sleeve, pumping and thumping over western filled earth, beating against sky. We Wyomigians (we’re like cousins to Montanians) know better than to wear our heart on our sleeve – because it’s just too windy in Wyoming. So we wear it in our sleeve.:)
You Missoulians have something very special in that mountain town – wish I could pop over from my North Carolina perch and watch all you lovely ladies at sunset. Instead I perch on my computer and breath that Western air via Mamalode voices in stories that weave some beautiful Montana mosaics. Thank you for the western comfort. I miss it so.
We often forget how important our health is. Only when there are diseases and conditions, we often notice that we have previously done something wrong.