I hate going down a mountain. You use muscles you don’t normally use. You’re preventing yourself from falling forward constantly.
Plus, I’ve got big feet. The ground is smaller. I have to be more precise in where I step, especially on a trail filled with loose rocks, pebbles and sand. Every time I think I’m being overly cautious, and speed up, I slip. This process is slow and aggravating.
But going up is another matter entirely. I’m not going to fall forward. My legs are engaged in one direction.
The muscle burn can tingle. Deep breaths and sweat pouring from your head make you know you’re conditioning your body for the better. Maybe it’s endorphins. Maybe it’s something else. Regardless, the sum emotions derived from this form of physical exertion is like a runner’s high, which is a real phenomenon.
Then you get to the top. Then you see for miles.
Why does this bring us pleasure? Well, why does beauty bring us pleasure? I truly don’t know. It’s more than the uniqueness of view compared to our everyday surroundings. It’s more than colors and forms. I think it’s something primordial God put in our hearts so we seek high points to remind us that we can extricate yourselves physically and emotionally from the stressors of the life we’ve chosen, and see the world more like He does.
Maybe that’s horsecrap. Nonetheless, powerful emotions up high change your day drastically, and it’s never for the worse.
At the very least, it’s much better than sitting on your butt watching TV and getting stupider. Good gosh, every time I happen to be in TV’s presence I always think to myself prolonged exposure MUST cause brain damage – and I just had to throw this in here because it’s kinda’ the exact opposite experience of going up a mountain.