The Group Project

W hen I was in school, I loved planning out my projects and homework, jumping right on it, and completing it with plenty of time before the deadline.

I’m a planner. This works in my favor when managing a large family, in terms of grocery shopping, college applications and sports recruiting, family vacations, weddings, and the like.

The problem is, fault or no, I do not work well with others.

I’m sorry. I just don’t. I hated group projects in school. Largely because I knew I would have to carry the group, and I didn’t want C-Student-Mikey weighing me down. One time, I was paired up with a co-valedictorian, Nick, and I still created the entire project – a bridge composed entirely of toothpicks that would hold five full coke cans stacked end over end when suspended over a sink – without him.

Fortunately for me, Nick is a brilliant engineer, and he fixed a design flaw in my toothpick bridge that had it looking like it belonged in the city of Pisa. (I’ve just realized with embarrassment that I was the Mikey in that partnership!)

As an adult, I reach exasperation level far too early in my planning partnerships. Last year, I spent about 36 working hours planning an amazing 10-day trek from Niagara Falls to Montreal to Acadia National Park, crunching numbers and trying all different types of plane-car-housing combinations for a group of 10, until I settled on the least expensive way to make the trip happen on the best 10 consecutive days that worked for everyone in the group.

Whew. I got tired just typing that.

I kept a spreadsheet with links to all the flights, bookings, and activities I wanted.

I parsed how much activities would cost individually versus buying the package.

I read reviews about caves, boats, trams, neighborhoods, hiking trails, and permits required.

I even mapped out how long it would take us to get to Walmart.

Y’all. It was a masterpiece.

I presented it to Mr. Spreadsheet himself, the man who shares my heart, my husband, and he said, “I think I can do better than that.”

So I sat, watching his fingers flying on the keyboard – he types a dizzying 115 wpm – for several hours, only for him to come to just about the same conclusion I had.

Of course, I had steam shooting out of my ears, feeling as though I had wasted my time in his distrust for my planning skills.

I made a promise to myself that I would never do that again.

So early in January, I asked him to join me in the office to begin planning our summer family vacation to the Grand Canyon.

Somehow, Mr. Spreadsheet got caught up in this somewhat comical series of video reviews by an official government agency that looks like Mikey and Nick trying to fulfill a requirement to pass 10thgrade speech class.

While we enjoyed chuckling at the novice graphics and scripted vocalization, at the conclusion, he announced we would hike the family from the rim down to the river and back up again – a 6-hour hike for the average person and an elevation change of 5,000 feet. Each way.

Um. My jaw fell open and stayed that way for a while.

Let’s just remind everyone that my 46th birthday is coming up, and I’m seeing a surgeon about replacing both my hips.

And that’s not cosmetic, y’all.

So. My secret plan is to stop at the half-way point and return, taking any exhausted children or teenagers with me. (I did not note this option on our shared itinerary, so let’s keep it between us, shall we?)

Well, we explained to the kids that we will be training to take this hike in a few months, and we encouraged them to do some treadmill work regularly on a heavy incline. We also plan to incorporate some day hikes around here and perhaps a few hikes elsewhere on the weekends.

Saturday, the temperatures rose above freezing, and the sun came out, and we awoke with enthusiasm to present to our kids their very first hike.

A short, flat, easy son of a gun in T.O. Fuller Park.

The Initiation Loop. After winding through some less-appealing parts of Memphis in our big black van, we finally found the park and the trailhead, which is easy to miss because it’s incorporated into an RV hookup spot.

We all bounded out with enthusiasm on this 1.2mile down-and-back trail, which our app, All Trails, had starting in the parking lot. (Talk about flat and easy!)

I suppose we had hiked less than 15 minutes when Mr. Spreadsheet checked our progress on GPS and realized somehow we had wandered off the shortflat- easy trail and onto a 3.9-mile loop around the entire park.

Everyone was having such a delightful time that we just decided to continue on.

That was not a good idea. It may have been fine except that we had planned to be back to Marion in time for a birthday party, so I pushed everyone to pace up, forgetting that out of the six of us, including the 6-year-old, I would struggle the most with the faster pace.

FOUR miles later – four hilly, slippery miles later, wherein I fell in the mud, navigated several rotten bridges and one that had the planks entirely removed, multiple very large trees that had fallen on the trail and required gymnastics to proceed – we collapsed into the van and drove to the party an hour late.

I woke up stiff as a board the next day, and I still look at stairs with angst in anticipation of the pain my sore legs will emit.

The kids joked, “Thanks for the short, flat, easy introductory hike, Mom!”

And whoo-boy, do I agree! What unfortunate timing for that mistake.

If I had to grade this group project, I think the planning gets an A, but the execution comes in at a solid C+.

If this taught me anything, it’s to plan a rest day following that monster trail in Arizona.

And maybe just walk the easy, paved trail on the rim instead.

Dorothy Wilson lives in Marion, Arkansas, with her husband Chris as they enjoy all of the adventures life with their seven children provides (where everything is a group project). Contact her at iam4life@msn.com.

Dorothy Wilson

The Marion Mom