Yesterday, I fled the confines of my troll hole (otherwise known as my office/studio to get out into the big, big world of nature. It was a beautiful day, and knowing that the famous Portland rains were already hulking off the coast just waiting to make sure we all remembered we aren't called webfoots for nothing, a friend and I laced up our hiking boots and headed out to the woods.

This particular trail starts out following a sparkling stream, bubbling over rocks and boulders, flowing past ferns, stands of Solomon's Seal and the shadows of massive Douglas firs. But before long, the trail heads up, up the hill. Goodbye, gentle stream grade - hello, lung bursting, butt busting battle against the law of gravity.

Thankfully, the uphill struggles were broken up by some brief downhills and the higher we climbed the more rolling the terrain. Yes, it was an effort, but it wasn't a back breaking, soul sucking one. We watched for hawks and eagles, dodged the pine cones hurled from the Doug firs by belligerent squirrels (NOW I know where monkeys learned to fling poo) and had ourselves a jolly good time overall.

And we looked forward to the hike back to the car. After all, we told ourselves, we'd walked UP to get to the top, so now we'd get to walk DOWN. But it didn't exactly turn out that way. Sure, we did lose elevation on our return trip, but remember the rolling terrain part? It was a LOT more rolling than I remembered. Suddenly, my tired legs were having a bit of difficulty heading UP. And I had to give them a combination of a stern talking-to and a pep talk to keep my pooped gams moving. But move they did and I was very happy to see the car at the end of it all.

I've hiked a lot of hikes. I've run a lot of runs. I've completed a marathon and ridden over a hundred miles in a day on my bike on more than a few occasions. It's ingrained in me that during any hike, run, bike ride or marathon there are uphills, downhills and a bunch of rolling terrain in between.

Today I hit a bit of an uphill - not in my exercise regime, but in my work. I thought I was on the easy downhill part of a project. But a call from my agent let me know that, like so many deals and contracts in these "uncertain economic times" my deal had gone poof. But I didn't freak, I didn't wail in despair, claw at my eyes or even remotely feel like doing so.

I was disappointed, sure. But that disappointment felt familiar. It felt like yesterday when after a pleasant ten minutes of downhill hiking, yet another incline loomed just ahead. I knew all I had to do was huff and puff and then there'd be another downhill coming along soon. It's just the way it is - in hiking or in a creative career.

But here's the other part that made that hike and that disappearing deal feel much more manageable. I wasn't alone in either situation. On the hike, my friend and I would chat it up during the uphills, encourage each other and talk about the downhills yet to come. On the phone today, my agent and I didn't dwell on the bad news but instead made plans about just how we'd not only get past this challenge (climb that hill) but also talked about all the wonderful rolling terrain that is the true reality of my career right now.

So I just can't make myself feel bad about this. Maybe all those athletic endeavors and 25 years of making my living as an artist and writer have allowed me a little perspective about these things.

And maybe it's also because I'm the luckiest person in the world to have not only good friends and hiking buddies, but also the best agent ever - one who always sticks with me on the uphills and never, ever lets me forget the triumphs of a journey successfully completed.