Revisiting the Thousand Steps

Cassidy and I at the top of the Thousand Steps overlooking Mapleton Borough in March 2016.

Cassidy and I first visited the Thousand Steps in Huntingdon County in October 2013, around the time of our one-year anniversary. To this day, I'm unsure how I convinced her to do something as strenuous as climbing the side of a mountain.

Since we've lived together, Cassidy and I have made great strides to stay in shape, including taking hour-long walks and hiking whenever we get the chance; however, back in 2013, Cassidy rarely hiked -- or walked for that matter. Neither of us was really in shape to attempt something like the Thousand Steps, but I told her it would be a unique way to remember our first year together as a couple.

As I look back on that day now, I remember it being hard to forget.

The hike, in the most poetic way I could describe it, sucked. It was steep; the weather was hot (even for October); the steps were overcrowded with people, forcing hikers to shuffle to the side to let others pass. On top of all that, the hike itself proved to be physically draining. Cassidy barely got to 200 steps before she looked as though she was on the verge of passing out, and she decided that she wanted to quit. I told her in the nicest way possible that "doing 200 steps of the Thousand Steps" didn't sound like much of an accomplishment.

I encouraged her several times to keep moving. At certain points, I needed to hold her hand and almost drag her up the incline.

We eventually reached the top, and the feeling was monumental. Doing a thousand steps on a stair-climbing machine doesn't carry the same significance as completing the same task on a mountainside. That day still exists as a special one in both of our hearts.

October 2013: At the time, we considered just rolling back down the mountain instead of walking.

Recently, the weather took a turn for spring. The sun peaked out; the clouds dissipated, and the wind blew in the most refreshing way. I had off work, and Cassidy and I both wanted to walk somewhere more adventurous than to the high school for a change. I hiked the Thousand Steps a week earlier, when Cassidy went to Delaware with her parents to search for a prospective beach house. At the time, I told her I did the Thousand Steps by myself, and she became envious because I made the hike without her. I assured her that the both of us would pursue the hike in the future. I doubted at the time that it would be less than a week later.

Regardless, I've possessed a hiking craze lately, and I hate myself whenever I ignore the opportunity to enjoy the outdoors on a gorgeous day. I made sure to warn Cassidy ahead of time that, despite walking and staying in shape all winter, the trail kicked my ass a week earlier, so I was uncertain how she would do. Cassidy ignored my warning and expressed only excitement to climb the Thousand Steps.

I must admit that she surprised me. On the way up, we paused several times so she could catch her breath, but, unlike me a week before, she never showed any possible signs of going into cardiac arrest. I remember sitting on the ground at one point because my heart felt as though it was about to explode.

It took us a while to reach the top, but I had no intention to rush her. After all, we wanted the hike to be fun. Besides, I had off work, so we had all the time we needed.

Just like back in October 2013, the two of us pushed together and finished our goal. The Thousand Steps don't give off a romantic vibe based off their appearance, but Cassidy and I always feel closer as a couple when we reach the top. The hike is always the ultimate bonding experience for us -- a test of whether or not we can tackle a struggle together as a team.

She doesn't even mind the fact I look like a wannabe NASCAR driver.

We once again proved that with this hike, and to celebrate, we made a detour to Raystown Lake and enjoyed the warm dusk on the small sand beach by the Seven Points Marina.

The only thing missing is a tiki bar.

I don't often get "cutesy" with my posts, so you can bear with me this one time.

Sure, the small spit of sand on Raystown Lake isn't the Outer Banks, but it's close enough. We just wanted to enjoy a few more minutes outside before returning to the mundane adult responsibilities we face day in and out.