December Sweeps - Day 680

Oh, regarding yesterday's post.  Someone informed me that a "palindrome" is not the filthy, illegal sexual act that I thought it was, but merely a word that reads the same frontwards and backwards, like "Hannah," "kayak," "racecar," and "buntcake."  I'm sorry about the misunderstanding.

I REALLY ought to go on a hike today.  I asked Big to encourage me, and he said, "You can do it!" in Rob Schneider's voice.  And that's hard to ignore.

Sit-ups Today: 100
Sit-ups In December: 1200

Wow, the hike was rough.  But hey, I did it, and am a stronger person for it.  Or not. 

It was a fairly warm winter day, at least compared to when it was snowing or freezing, so I jumped in the car, sans coat or gloves, and headed to the base of the mountain as fast as I could manage.

There was snow on the ground, all the way up the trail.  In other words, a mile hike up the mountain in snow.  Right as I started up, I passed a man on crutches coming down.  Not only did he have crutches, but he had a service dog with him (the dog jumped up on me twice).  The crutches guy said, "You going up there now?  It's gonna be dark soon."  "I'll be alright," I said, "since the snow will reflect the light."  "Yeah, but you're going up by yourself, without a coat?  Do you at least have spikes on your shoes?"  "No," I said, "but if you . . ."

I didn't dare complete the statement.  If you, a guy on frickin' crutches, could do it, then I should be able to too."  "I'll be okay," I said.  "Thoughts and prayers, man," the stranger said, and hobbled back down the trail.

Push-ups Today: 100
Push-ups In December: 1223

I had given myself more time in December to get to the top of the trail than I had in November, but I hadn't counted on the terrain being much, much more difficult.  I'd loaded an audiobook on my phone to listen to, a self-help book I'd wanted to read for a long time.  But it did make me feel kind of bad instead of good (I probably should've listened to music instead).  I trudged up the hill, and when I passed the first sign (the one that tells you how far you've gone versus how far there is left to go), I realized I wasn't going to make it.  Pretty soon, my shoes would be soaked, then my socks, and my hands and ears would be cold, and I was going so slowly it would be dark before I was even halfway up.

Some hikers came down, but not many.  There weren't even a pair of horny twenty-somethings watching the sunset and pawing one another atop the big rock at the one-third point.

Behind me, I saw a couple walking up the hill, much faster than me, and I tried--I really tried--to go faster, so they wouldn't pass me by, but around the next bend, I just walked out into the snow so they could go around me.  The man zoomed on by, going so fast, you'd think there wasn't any snow (or even an incline).  But his wife stopped and looked at me.  And I knew her.  I had gone to high school with her and we'd been friends.

Strangely, she told her husband to keep on going, and she walked up the hill with me, keeping my snail's pace instead of trying to match her husband's practical sprint.  We talked, and before too long, we were at the top (where the husband was already ready to turn around and head back down).  I was pretty sweaty, having exerted myself to get up there, but this was where you could sit down:

The two of them took off, leaving me the only person left on the mountain.  Now it was dark, but I drank my water, and started down.  I was in no hurry, and the one time I tried to go fast was the one time I slipped and fell, my hand catching me by plunging through the snow, which--big shock--was cold.  Very slowly, and not-at-all sure-footedly, I made my way down the trail, all by myself, but what else is new?  I did imagine encountering a slavering wolf or a yeti on my hike down in the dark, but that would be far too entertaining for this blog.

Words Today: 914
Words In December: 7381