I went hiking yesterday. And not just normal hiking, but fully-loaded-giant-backpack hiking. Just to see if I could make it.
(I didn't really doubt I could, since I'm in pretty good shape. But I figured there was no reason not to do it . . . etc.)
About 1/3 of the way through my hike, just after the time of the day when one sits in the shade and changes one's socks and partakes of protein bars and tasty little salty snack-packs and re-applies one's sunscreen (also commonly known as 'lunch'), I came to a hill.
And when I say hill, I don't mean a little slight incline like the kind you'd have to use a parking brake with in a car. I mean, like:
|This is obviously not the hill I'm talking about. This is a picture I found on the internet for demonstrative purposes.|
The integrity of my photocopied topographical map was obviously compromised. Not all of the little lines had carried over. I checked the original once I got home and there they were in all their glory showing the horror that was this hill. But I hadn't used the original when planning my route.
So I was like, Ah, CRAP. That is a really steep hill.
This is were the strangeness of the mind comes in and gets all screwy with us.
If I came across a hill like that walking around the city on a normal day, I would say, Screw this. I'm going home. I wouldn't do it. Too steep, too long, too hot outside for this kind of nonsense. Gonna go home and do laundry instead.
But not yesterday. No, yesterday, laden with a pack that probably weighed almost as much as my nine-year-old brother, in ninety-degree weather, I mounted that hill. With gusto. Very tired gusto, but gusto none the less.
It was rather exciting.
P.S. - And I only got stuck in two trees yesterday. I think that's pretty good.