Over the Christmas break I took my boys up to hike Old Rag in the Shenandoah National Forest.  Ok, to be truthful, we only hiked about 200 yards of the trail.  200 yards?  Was that worth it in bone chilling 30 degree weather and an hour round trip ride in the ol' minivan?  You bet it was. 

I'm beginning—emphasis on beginning—to see that parenting is more about being than doing.  A few years ago I would have measured the trip in terms of how far up the trail we made it.  And I would have concluded the trip was a universal failure. 

But what I've come to realize is that my boys have no idea that Old Rag is typically measured by how much of the 8.8 miles you complete.  Nope, they have neither a concept of miles or of the decimal accented number 8.8. 

This is how they measured the trip. 

• The week leading up to the trip we talked about it all the time.  They picked the Lord of the Rings character they were going to be and how many orcs they were going to battle on Old Rag mountain—apparently a link in the Misty Mountains.
• The car trip out to the trail when they talked about how they might need to build a lean-to like Bear Grylls if we get stuck on the trail and can't make it back by dinner.
• The parking lot where they got to break into the ice coated puddles made by the car ruts of all the Old Rag visitors.
• The half a mile hike to the trail head where they bounded across the thankfully unpopulated paved road.
• The base of the map at the trail head where we had our first snack and enjoyed a much needed break from our hike just to make it to the trail.
• The 200 yards up the trail where they thought they found tracks in the snow for everything from bears to birds to foxes.
• The rock we stopped and they scaled.  For all they knew they made the summit.
• The trip down the trail and the road which was mainly taken up with talk of lunch on the car ride home. 

That is how they measured the trip and it totaled up to a whopping success. 

So as I walked down the trail I smiled as I passed the other folks arriving to tackle Old Rag that day: the 40 something guy with the tights and trekking poles, the Northface sporting college guys, and the late 30's married couple with full packs who looked at me like I was crazy.  They all had no idea how much fun I was having.  It was my little secret.

I hiked 200 yards of Old Rag...and loved every moment of it.

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