Hiking with Norman [Just A Moment #4]

There's nothing like the sound of gravel. It's just so satisfying. My tires roll over the stuff without a loss of grip. Then, that crunch proves the rightness of everything. Yep, gravel's pretty good for parking lots. You can, also, use it on driveways too. Tanya, though, has yet to agree. I keep showing her different colors. But, she's stuck on the idea of boring gray.

Gravel can only be like this parking lot at Magnolia Fair State Park according to Tanya. There is no fun color here. Only a gray square covers from the road to the trail head. It makes a bit of sense here. They've got a bunch of parking lots, right? So, they needed something cheap and easy. The gravel salesperson probably cut them a great bulk price. At least, that's what I would do. They could've got some rocks from the creek beds though. That'd've been neat. Instead, it's just boring gray.

I keep telling Tanya: "It doesn't have to be like this." I show her lots of photos. She's seen the options. Still, our home lacks a cool gravel driveway. I guess I'm not as good a salesman at home.

Really, home is where I should be. Instead I'm parking next to this trailhead. My face falls to the steering wheel. I shouldn't be here. My last sales meeting at New Element Steel took far too long. Then, Tanya's got this dinner planned with her dad. I should back out now and go home.

My head moves backward to the headrest. I called Tanya on the way here. I told her the situation. And, she still told me to do something. She has this fool's notion about coming straight home from sales meetings. Seems to think I stay in "sales mode." This all started a couple months back. I tried to sell her dinner to her one night. Or so she says.

I don't mind these trips most of the time. There are certainly all kinds of stops on the way home. I could get a cup of coffee. I've even stopped for a couple drinks. Tanya even says that she can tell a difference. So I take the time on her account.

I worry about this stop though. It's all because of that last customer. I met Fred. He's the head of safety over there at New Element. Arch support and thicker soles were totally new concepts. I tried explaining the role of comfort in increased safety. I used his own numbers and got nothing. I finally found a pair of ankle-high boots in his size. He tried them on and saw the truth. That's all it took. I can sell on the job at least.

One hand drifts toward the gear shift. I lower my eyes at the same time. The trail comes into a sharp focus. A dirt path scoots from the parking lot. Willow and birch weave into pine and magnolia. Everything has the brightness of the first sprouts of spring. I'm not going to deny: There's a call here all its own. My hand darts from the gear shift to the keys. I turn the car off.

My other hand hesitates at the door lever. I can't be late for dinner. Tanya's dad and I start to get along after five years. He’ll think twice of me again. I shouldn't mess that up for Tanya's sake.

No, I've got to get out there. Tanya told me not to come straight home. The waterfall will look amazing after a week of rain. This is the Green Trail after all. The hike, then, is easy enough. There's still plenty of time. If I leave now.

I grab my water belt and shoulder the car door open. The belt wraps around my waist with a click. The water bottle lands in its holster. I feel like a cowboy. He pops off his horse and lands on his feet. Everything settles on him just perfect. I probably look like a grandpa though. This water belt has a strange resemblance to a fanny-pack. I'll keep wearing this thing long beyond its life expectancy. It's been one of Tanya’s best gifts. Makes these short hikes convenient without a full pack.

I look forward to the falls today. They are my favorite place in this park. I got a water bottle for drinking on a rock. I might even pick one right at the edge. I could just sit there and watch as all the stuff pours over. It’s a great spot for watching stuff float away. Maybe that meeting with Fred will vanish too. Well here I go.

The sun halts me. I only get two steps from the car. My feet refuse to move. I might as well be in wet cement. The sun's pleasantly warm. The birds talk among themselves. The slightest of breezes rattles the trees. They may be talking to one another too. Everything's doing its thing. That's nice.

I can't stay here though. My cellphone jumps from my pocket. I set a timer for half my remaining time. I can walk until that sounds. Then, I'll have enough time for the return trip. I must see the waterfall and not be late for dinner.

The canopy’s shade drops the temperature on the trail. I don't need a jacket. That breeze is more noticeable now. I'll get to moving. It won't be a problem. Tally ho to the waterfall.

This Green Trail is nice. There are no immediate uphills. I walk with a hustle at the base of old trees. They've done a nice job on the trail. I don't hear any crunch of leaves here. That might be a bit disappointing normally. Today, I'm glad for one less distraction. It'll make getting to the waterfall easier.

The trail winds around the trees. It avoids any difficult terrain. There's another credit to the trail keepers. Unlike that goober at New Element. I swear. That man must've prepared for our meeting in the worst way possible. He showed up late for starters. That shatters professionalism right off. I think I brushed that off well.

He, then, fought me on every statistic. They were stats from his company. He sent them to me in an email. I showed him the email. I probably surrendered the problem-solving ground too soon. It came down to a couple options. I could try something else or actually fight the guy.

Well, I'm moving now. There's the first half-mile marker. This pace'll have me at the waterfall in no time.

The next meeting will be out here. Look there in that tree. Two birds made their home in it. Sure, they aren't living on the same branch. They still share that space. They may even compete for the same worms. They got enough sense to let it go for now.

That peanut this afternoon made a competition. He set us at opposing ends. That just makes the whole process a chore. I had to find a corner for that guy. And he fell for the convenient one. He picked comfort. The disregard for safety was tragic. I must remember this sale. I do have a contract. And that's the job.

There goes a squirrel. He gets it. Every acorn becomes lunch now or stored for later. He simply works. The job gets done. He gets to eat that way. Maybe he's even bringing some home to Tanya-the-squirrel. Let's see what tree he goes up.

Oh no. I can't do that. The longer I stand here means less time at the falls. I must arrive on time for dinner. That will make missing the falls my sacrifice. I already wasted too much time. That squirrel has me here like a bump on a log. I definitely lost some time. Best get back on my way.

The falls may already be unachievable. I started with a low margin for error. Now, I make a big error. I start again. Just have to see how far I get.

Distractions are my enemy. They always have been. I nearly missed my independent sales rep level. My trainers could never get me to focus on a customer’s problem or our products. The value of my contracts saved me there. They save me even now.

I try to connect first with the customer as a human. I want that family or work experience connection like with the squirrel. I wonder about the guy's family first. A guy must talk about work. That's why he meets with me. Something else happens though over a non-job related connection. I find an easier path to problem solving that way.

That angle failed at New Element too. This guy did not want to talk family any more than work problems. I found nothing to interest him. I suppose the plan for sales training has this kind of customer in mind. Sales training tries to prepare me for the worst. This dude today was an exception among my customers for sure.

My pace quickens again. I should keep my mind on New Element. The replays of that could get me to the falls with time to spare. I can't consider today a loss. I have the contract after all. My mind refuses to let that go. I want it to be about the other guy. He made the job rough. The more I think the more I see my failures to adapt. That seems my real issue.

Oh, listen to that. I can already hear the normally small creeks. That's a music not often heard. I usually hike the higher trails. Such a distance could explain not hearing the creeks. Or the rains swell the creeks. Might even be a combination of things. I certainly don't know.

I'm moving even better than thinking about New Element. I have to see the band behind that music. The next curve around a hill brings the trail parallel to a creek bed.

This creek is certainly higher than usual. It hasn't washed over its banks. It's real close though. The water rushes around rocks and over tree roots. I bet the creek usually flows around all these things. I get you, Creek.

Flow is hard when you have more going on. Look at you. You're carrying a lot more water. That's got to give a little more confidence to taking on obstacles. You make a wonderful song overcoming your obstacles.

My feet turn toward a babbling spot. The water crashes over a tree root. It swirls around a group of rocks. It celebrates with gurgles and ripples at every move. A smile spreads across my face. I watch the water dance over and around obstacles. The water, then, flows out of sight.

I did not do this today. I met my obstacles and forgot how to flow. My music proved that of one without prior experience with his instrument. I brought a greater amount of stuff to the meeting. This quarter is my best so far. I have dinner with my wife tonight. Everything about today looked good.

I let that guy throw me off my flow. This creek shows-off with its increase. I was not like this creek. And I still have dinner with my father-in-law to go. Maybe I've still got time to flow. I could've swirled around my rocks. The time now is to flow off around the bend.

Ah man. I did it again. My pace disappears with another distraction. I need to get moving. I surely will miss the falls now. My time wouldn't allow for one stop. And I've made two. Any accomplishment this day will surprise me.

I start the trail one more time. There's the first mile marker a few steps ahead. I only have one more of those to pass. A slim chance remains. No stopping this time. I must push through. I got the contract and can see the falls. Here I go.

My pace steadies itself this time. There's still no crunch of leaves under my feet. That remains a bit disappointing. I make a thud sound with my boots instead. The sound satisfies in its own way. There's my music. I make a march to the falls. I flow at last.

A butterfly loops across the trail. My focus stays on the trail. I don't see the lucky flower for the butterfly's dinner. Several creeks merge to flow toward the falls. I ignore their sirens’ song. My feet keep their march. I am on my way.

The trail leads me around one more hill to the next half-mile marker. A picnic pavilion sits behind it with the creek at the back of everything. That wonderful song is interrupted by my timer's alarm.

I shuffle over to the pavilion. One foot barely leaves the ground before the other. I will not make it to the falls. My return trip must start now. What a wasted trip. I plop onto a bench seat at one of the pavilion's tables.

My water bottle slides from its pouch. I take a big swig. I intended to sit at the falls and drink this. I am a half mile short instead. Disappointment escapes with a sigh like an overheated tea kettle.

I couldn't focus enough. Every little thing took my mind off the goal. And I missed my target. I knew the limited time and failed to act. Maybe the sales training was right? I simply cannot do what needs to be done. I'm too indulgent to wandering. Really I was right in the first place: I should've stayed in the car.

Another drink gives me an opportunity for a deep inhale. My mind grows silent for a heartbeat. The creek takes that chance and inserts itself into my thoughts. The music becomes a challenge now. I hear the flow over all obstacles and see only my defeat by my obstacles. My final seat is at a little used table instead of a well-worn rock by the falls. I missed my favorite place and have nothing left to do but go back empty handed.

The creek maintains its song. The swirls and crashes echo around the metal-roofed pavilion. Its volume increases instead of quieting to share my moment. I hear only a consonant accusation of my lack of flow.

I put my water bottle in its pouch. Three steps then carry me to the back of the pavilion. The creek now looks like a stream. I can barely see the bottom. It crashes over even the rocks and flows toward the falls. A sight I will not see today.

Wait a minute. The creek still flows. It carries all the stuff away to the falls. The rains dump all kinds of things into this creek. The creek carries that stuff to the final destination - the crash over the falls. I am not at my destination any more than this is the creek's destination. I have dinner yet to flow to.

My eyes drop to my feet. There's a small twig between my shoes. I lift the twig and toss it into the stream. The twig disappears for a brief moment and floats to the surface. I watch the twig get pushed into rocks. It even receives a toss over a tree root. Before it floats out of sight. The creek washes it away like everything else.

I turn from the creek and go to the front of the pavilion. One quick glance darts toward the falls. I could make an attempt at this. I wasted so much time getting here. So I could likely still get a glimpse of the falls.

That's impossible. Something else will distract me. It'll make me late for dinner. I have already taken too long to turn around. I cannot be late for this dinner. I must start back. Especially since I'm as likely to get distracted on the way back.

I'm like that squirrel. Sure I am looking for nuts. I keep running across everything else though. I can't just look for the requirements either. Sill, maybe the squirrel and I get what we need?

I did see the squirrel take plenty of nuts to his home. The creek did flow with all its extra stuff. I recently watched it with my twig. The creek had no problem with that little thing. I'll even bet that twig will eventually go over the falls. The creek needs to go that way and really can't go anywhere else. Like I must be going to the car.

My back turns to the falls. I put one foot in front of the other. I neither march nor hike. I take rather a slower pace back down the trail. The current rushes past me in the opposite direction now. I snort a small chuckle with this thought: I am now headed in the right direction - against the current.

A blue bird chooses this moment to fly over my head and up the trail in front of me. He's going home too. He doesn't stop anywhere that I can see. That's good for me. The distraction avoids me this time. I can keep moving around a hill.

The trail moves me around a second hill. I have to look at the ground for a bit. I pass the mile marker with a glowing sky in front of me. The sunset hits me full in the face. A flowery yellow drops into the orange of a fire. I sure would enjoy a seat next to. Low clouds gray out the rest. Until the trees rise to meet them.

My eyes scan the colors. I watch them blend and shift with each step. Every foot fall brings a new shade. Then, there it is.

The trees open and reveal my car. I did make it to one destination after all. Maybe Tanya was right about these little treks? Anyway I should go see what's for dinner.