As I sit hear, reeking of sweat and mud, I feel a mixture of pride, exhaustion, and accomplishment swirling within me. I have been the coordinator for an Eagle Scout at the battlefield. He has been planning this project since the end of July. This past Saturday was the last of three Saturdays he has had his volunteer crew out to help replace a portion of fence outside the visitor center. I am proud of him- he had enough hours to officially have earned his project last month, but still had a stretch of fence to finish. He could have called it quits and said he did enough, but he came back and finished.
For someone with little to no upper-body strength, I have a hard time with most manual labor. I helped where I could, but the mud (very sticky, heavy, water-saturated mud), made any efforts three times as difficult. My "team" comprised me, an awkward thirteen-year-old who insisted on telling the same lame earthworm jokes, and the scout's little sister who didn't feel like she had to work since she was just a sister. I choked on a tall order of patience and we ploughed through digging holes and setting up fence posts at our own (slow) rate. The teams worked according to their ability and we finished the project by noon.
It is amazing how mentally exhausting physical exertion can be. I sit here, my hands still smelling of leather, more hair whisping out of my braid than tucked in, hoping somebody will come along and carry me to the shower for I don't have the strength to get there myself. I have to work this afternoon! And by "work," I mean "write." Ugh. I hate school. I just want to be a park ranger and move along with life.