“How many miles are you feeling like this morning?”
Oh, I don’t know. Maybe 7 or 8?
I started with a 2 liter pack of water frozen solid.
It was melted by mile two.
Because those first two miles. Were straight up the side of a mountain.
800 stairs. Or maybe 5,000. My legs will tell you it was closer to 5,000. Stairs.
Built for someone of a height significantly taller than mine.
And somewhere around stair number 532. BB stops. Turns around. Holds up her phone. And says, “Make it look easy!”
I settled for just not making it look like absolute death.
That’s not what easy looks like…
So what had happened was…
We climbed up over that mountain. And down the other side. To see this.
Back in the day. They shoved 100 Tories in there.
Maybe you remember what those were. From your US History class.
I didn’t.
Then we climbed back up over that mountain.
And back down to the parking lot.
“We should be around 10 miles by the time we get back to our cars.”
Perfect.
And this was the point.
Right there. Was the point at which I knew BB hated me.
“We could refill out water and head up to Hanging Rock.”
Ok, but…10 miles…so much climbing…hungry…
And what I should have done. Was get into my car. And drive away.
But I’m super susceptible to peer pressure.
And BB was no longer asking.
She was telling.
“Let’s just do it. It won’t hurt us.”
Ok, but…it’s definitely gonna hurt…
Because the climb up to Hanging Rock is littered with signs like this.
I just wanted to go home. To my food. And my couch.
But she made me get up. And keep going.
So much climbing.
So much heat.
Is this a sauna? Have they turned this park into a sauna??
And we were less than a tenth of a mile. From the top. From the hanging rock.
And BB is just prancing right on through the trail. Past a young man. Struggling to convince his girlfriend to keep going.
“I think I’m good here.”
“But it’s gonna be so worth it.”
That’s what chippy one that just flew by y’all keeps saying to me. But he’s right. It is just right there.
“Fine.”
And that’s how I saved a relationship on a mountain.
They’re welcome.
And so we get to the rock.
And there are all of these teens. Just hanging out.
And BB asks one of them to take our photo.
And we start telling him to make us look strong and badass and beautiful and…
And one of the girls. One of these 15 year old girls. Says, “y’all don’t need a pic for that. You’ve already got all of that.”
Ok, well she’s my new favorite.
And then BB suggested we recreate the pic. That OT took of me. When we came out here years ago.
This one…
I used to look like that.
You see how you can see all of the mountains in the background?
So, I assume the position.
And she starts taking pics.
And…
Ok. First. Understand that the pandemic was hard on my metabolism.
And unemployment has been even harder.
I was gonna wear jeans to interviews on Tuesday. But I have zero jeans that I can pull all the way up over my butt anymore.
Likewise. I have zero normal running shorts. That don’t spend the entirety of a run cutting off blood flow. And crawling their way up into…places.
So I wear compression shorts. (I refuse to call them booty shorts. Except…fine. Booty shorts.)
Because they don’t move.
And so poor BB is behind me saying, “Hang on. I need to find another angle. All I can see is butt. I’m trying to get at least one of the mountains in the background.”
Y’all. My ass now blocks out entire mountains.
*SIGH*
So I rolled up into PlayFITStayFIT today. Whining about clothes. And mountain-blocking butts. And stair climbing struggles.
And that led to a 50 minute J-Vicious nutrition lecture. With some gym consistency reminders. Thrown in.
And he’s not wrong.
I just love food so much. So so much. All of the food.
And my couch. (I don’t actually love my couch. It’s old. And uncomfortable. And awful. And will be replaced as soon as possible.) But I love the idea of my couch.
But it’s fine.
I’m gonna start a new job on Monday.
Where I’ll have to wear real jeans. At least once a week.
And I’ll have the flexibility to get to the gym. Always.
And after a few months. I’m gonna make BB take me back. To Hanging Rock. For a photo remake do-over.
And you’re gonna be able to see ALL of the mountains.
And that 15 year old girl said I was a strong beautiful badass. Basically.
Also. *SIGH* I found this today…
After I’d already paid to order a new one.
Apparently I did get that signature at birth.
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