Three days post hike and I finally can rest my hands in my lap without wincing.
Thigh muscles? Who knew I had them! I thought I was just like a Cadbury Egg, crusty and hard on the outside but actually filled with an obnoxious substance that you think is good in the beginning but as you continue to sample it, it strikes you that it really tastes like like the puke of a thousand angels.
But apparantly, I have muscles.
Also, the Superior Hiking Trail near my house where I was hiking in preparation, is relatively flat. Of course, I didn't think it was until I started hiking around Spirit Mountain and scrambling up rocks. What's so funny is that ANYONE who has ever done ANYTHING like this will, at this point, roll their eyes and say "WUSS!"
They would be right too.
I suppose we all have to start somewhere though. I remember several first times in my life that were less than steller. I believe the first time I knit anything it was with size 15 needles and baby weight yarn. Yeah, it was kind of like a mackeral net as opposed to the baby blanket that I was aiming at. It could have been useful for holding out and running through a daycare center, trying to trap as many babies in 30 seconds as possible which, when you think about it, would be really funny. (I have an alternate career writing game shows for Japanese television).
The folks that sponsored the hike were great though. Technically, people were supposed to go at least 2.5 miles an hour but I ended up just below that. No one threw me out or made me quit and I ended up doing 16.7 miles in 7 hours. I'll admit that there were quite a few times when my lack of depth perception made me stop and wonder how in the hell to go down some rocky trails. When I go down a flight of stairs, I can hang onto something but funnily enough, that's not always an option in nature. I do recall a couple of times starting my decent and saying to myself "I don't have health insurance and if I break a leg, it will be a lot cheaper just to cover myself up in leaves and let nature take its course."
I'm all about survival of the fittest and from where I'm standing at the back of the pack, the fittest one is that guy with the stringy legs and the form fitting running shorts.
There were quite a few spectacular views and I finally broke down two thirds of the way through and stopped to take a couple photos of the beautiful fall colors. I just sort of snapped the photos, tossed my camera in my bag, and kept on going. It wasn't until I got home that I realized my daughter had the camera on black and white. Instead of getting a picture of myself standing on a rocky cliff with a gorgeous autumnal display behind me, I ended up with a black and white dystopian photograph of the last person on earth, living a hard scrabble life on a rocky cliff overlooking an unforgiving wilderness. That physically fit guy in the running shorts that was once so far out in front?