Mike and I are continuing our afternoon "walks" which are more like killer stair-stepper sessions on the side of a mountain. I'm quite pleased that my plan is working. Because me and the gym have baggage together, my hope has been to simply live life in a way that makes me healthy, not implant artificial sweating on a machine. (No offense to you gym goers; I just have issues.) And living by this mountain seems to be doing it.
While scratching my hamstring last night on the way up, I noticed that it felt somehow different, odd. Then I remember that's what muscles feel like. I'm developing nicely rounded dihpthongs from the mountain. (Linguist joke, name that quote.)
So Mike and I, feeling suddenly like young healthy goats, kept going up and up and up and up. Until human prints ceased. And mountain lion tracks began. (I was carrying my killing rock, and making lots of noise, and had my sweatshirt ready to put over my head and make me look big, mom.)
And finally, after much huffing and puffing and mental curisng, perhaps, we made it to the top. Yes, the top! And saw over the other side. The other side of the mountain was all that we could see. But it was so worth it. We felt so good and goaty, we ran most all the way down. Goodbye knee cartilege!