Don't Follow My Lead

When I was about 14 years old, I went to the mall with my mom.   That sweetspot age when you don’t want to be seen with your parents, but you need them to drive you to places.  You know the age.

Well, before going to the mall, we had to go to one of the isolated stores across from the mall.   To go to the mall from said store you had to go through a 4 lane highway, up a small uphill of grass, that would lead you to the parking lot of the mall and into the main entrance of the mall.

We crossed the highway without a problem, and I went up the hill running without a problem.  But looked back at my mom and she was struggling up this small hill, trying to not lose balance and fall.  I retreated back to get her and hold her hand while now both of us when up the hill, and we went up to the mall.

That scene has stuck with me through all of this years, is a scene I never talk about, because is a mundane moment.   But it really wasn’t for me.   When I was a kid (less than 8 years old), my mother as a proud Latina woman can be, would take me into this streets bazaars in Puerto Rico.  And we would be walking for hours, my small little feet would get tired and I would try to whine, cry, complain, to slow down or stop.  But my mom would have none of that, she would keep walking and it was up to me if I wanted to keep up, because there was an unveil threat that if I couldn’t keep up, I would stay behind and my mom would only had 2 kids to raise instead of 3.  There was a certain level of veracity to this threat, that always pushed me to walk with her even when I was tired.

Fast forward to 2013.  I went to Peru to see my extended family that I haven’t seen since I was 7 years old.  I also wanted my mom to come to Peru with me, so that I could pay for her to go to Machu Picchu.  She was born and raised in Peru, but like a lot of Peruvians, going to this wonderland is not financially possible.  So I wanted to give her a small present for all the years of sacrifice as a mother that she has done for me and my siblings.  It doesn’t even begin to pay what she has done, but is my little down payment for that.

I payed for a package that would take my mom, my aunt, and me to Cusco, and we would go through the minor cities/ruins of the Inca empire before going to Machu Picchu.   I would then separate from my mom and aunt, and I would go to Machu Picchu city by myself.

To see Machu Picchu, there’s a few ways to see it

1. You can do the Inca Trail, which can be 2, 4 or 5 days.   You would go a trail, and hike/camp overnight along the way until you get to the ruins on your last day.

2. You can do it the easier way, have a touring company take you in a bus to the entrance of the ruins and you explore the ruins with a guided tour leader.

3. You can do it on your own (once you get the right pass) and hike up the trail up the mountain on the same day.

I would had liked to do the 4 day inca trail, but with only 2 weeks vacation and meeting family in Peru, it just wasn’t possible to do it.  So I decided instead to break from my mom and aunt, and I would go with the third option.  While I’m trying to explain this to my mom, she says, that she could do it with me.  I decline, and say is better for her to go with my aunt and do it with the guided tour.

Once we were in Cusco, we visited Urubamba ruins, and while the views were astounding.  Look for yourself.

There were also this giant steps, hundreds of them:

They would tire you out, all of us were out of breath.  I was able to regain my breath and keep going.  My aunt, while younger than my mom, gave up quickly.   My mom was able to regain some of her breath and kept going farther than my aunt, but couldn’t follow me anymore.

You see, age had finally caught up to her, even though she is in great shape for someone of her age, there’s only so much she could overcome.   And that’s what I saw for the first time in that seemingly normal afternoon of my youth.

My mother, the woman that dragged me along the streets of Rio Piedras, and the woman that to these days, walks every morning for an hour to start her day, was finally getting old in my eyes.  I had to go back to help her.   It dawned on me, in that afternoon, that there’s only so much we can walk, before your body says no more.

I’m now 36 years old, and I know that my walking prime days are numbered.  For that reason I need to change my life.