The struggle is real: This trail pushed my boundaries

“GAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!”

Lift foot a little higher up the 50-degree slope. Brace pole. Push body up trail, husband assisting by pulling my arm upward.

Pant.

Make that noise again.

Repeat.

We’re on a side path of the Boundary Loop Trail in the Sandia foothills.

I use the term “path” in the loosest sense. There is one. But it’s insanely steep, and twisty, and rocky, and fades out a lot. Like a game path, better suited to light-footed deer than humans.

When we’d reached the far point of the loop we were familiar with, splinter trails branched off all around us, rising up to steep ridges and down into steeper canyons. I couldn’t resist exploring them, but I knew it would be hard.

Even amid all the grunting, our rugged route provided stupendous views of the Sandias’ Shield, Prow and Needle and Juan Tabo Canyon. A notch in the canyon wall, from our steep angle on the trail, yielded a perfect view of Mount Taylor.

A few houses nestled low in the canyon.

“If I lived here,” my husband said, “I’d climb up to the top of that canyon wall every day.”

“No you wouldn’t,” I said. “That’s gotta be pueblo land.”

As we staggered down into the canyon, the pueblo fence came into view, stretching up toward the notch in the wall. I savored being right; it doesn’t happen often on the trail, since my husband’s been hiking New Mexico mountains and arroyos for decades longer than I have.

But being right didn’t make my legs any less shaky. It was 80 degrees, this hike had precious little shade, and the energy I’d expended climbing and descending repeatedly had heated me up further. I couldn’t wait for the moment when I’d get into the car and blast the air conditioner.

Luckily, we found a gentle, rolling path back to the trailhead that we’d missed our first time out here.

The car felt like heaven. As we drove away, all the things I’d experienced before the taxing climb came back to me: the cool breeze, the black and white and yellow butterflies darting around, the jay that flapped by squawking, the red-tailed hawk gliding high above a ridge.

The moments when I’d longed for the hike to be over swapped places with the beauty of it in my memory, and the wish that it was still happening.

I remembered the words of a yoga teacher, when we were all pretzeled into a thigh-burning, off-center shape: “What happens for you when things get challenging?”

And another yoga teacher: “If you practice struggle, struggle is what you’ll learn.”

What would a really rugged trail be like with just burning legs and lungs and feet scrabbling on rocks, minus the struggle?

I don’t think I know yet.

But I’d really like to.

Hike length: 5 miles

Difficulty: moderate, strenuous beyond the end of the loop

Wildlife spotted: butterflies, caterpillar, Say’s phoebe, bluejay, red-tailed hawk, chipmunks

Trail traffic: moderate