As many of you may know, i am not what one would call coordinated. This fact, however, does not stop me from trying to keep up/enjoy the outdoor exercise with my family. F read my post about exercise and decided that since he was also along on the 20 mile-in-a-day hike with H, he would help out with the “get R in shape plan” when i went to visit him over the President’s Day weekend.
He decided to take me on the Sycamore Crest Trail in Avila as a “warm up” for all the exercise i would be soon doing. This trail did not have the pleasant lull-the-new-hiker-into-a-false-sense-of-what-sort-of-huge-hill-they-are-about-to-climb feeling that often accompanies the drive up to the parking lot before the trail even begins. No, even the paved driveway (through the hotel parking lot) to the base of the trail is so vertical that the Corgis in the back were sliding down their respective seats.
Backup, let’s meet the important characters from the Corgi Farm:
A rare moment when they are all fairly near to one another (from left to right) Jack, Colby, and Gouda
So we park and start up the trail. F is telling me this is just a quick little walk uphill after the car is parked and needs the e-brake wheels-turned combo to stay in its spot. As soon as the doors open the two smaller dogs take the lead, as is their habit.
This was a few minutes in. Please note the heavenly sun rays coming in the picture. It was like "welcome to a flat section, and you're only beginning this hike".
Gouda is trailing; his philosophy on walks is that if he lags behind us, maybe we won’t notice and he can meet us back at the car without having to do any actual walking. Also, someone might walk by with food and give it to him (if you imagine Yogi bear doing a “pic-a-nic basket” moment, that’s pretty applicable).
Gouda will also slow to imperceptible speed in any shady spots as though to say "No, don't worry guys. I'm fine right here. I'll see you on the way back."
And this hike was up hill. So I was trying my best to ignore the absolute sense of Gouda’s philosophy and keep up with F and the smaller Corgis. F was doing his best to point out the pretty things along our hike/walk. Such as these fancy trees that H likes:
I have to admit, the red bark is super fancy
And all these fancy oak trees and cute little benches.
Gouda's expression here is "Why, look at how comfortable this fancy bench is here in the shade".
Gouda definitely plays the part of the little devil on my shoulder on these walks. But to my credit, this little bench was after quite a serious uphill, and many a hiker (ok, to be honest, they were the 80-year-old, tour-the-county-in-my-RV type of hikers) was resting the lungs at this spot.
But we didn’t stop, and i was reminding myself how tough i am. F and i were bantering along uphill as though this wasn’t phasing me at all and i was (at least in my head) keeping up.
And i blame this internal monologue as to how i chose to make the wrong decision.
“Up and up some more? Or around this flatter, easier corner and to the top the longer way?”
“Up.”
“Really?… hmm. Ok. I’ve never been this way.”
Colby kept right up with F, Jack wasn't sure what all these new smells could mean.
Mind you, we didn’t get lost or fall off a cliff into the ocean. This wasn’t one of those wrong decisions. This was one of those wrong decisions when my internal monologue began yelling at me immediately asking how i could possibly intend to get to the top of this hill without its help.
The kind of wrong decision where i can’t believe i heard myself say the words. But i did. And i dragged myself up that hill.
And we talked about the nice view of places F considered living when he moved to this area.
I thought that I had conquered this peak. Maybe i dragged a bit, and maybe i whimpered (ok, i absolutely was whining about my decision to go Up rather than Around) but i had made it!
But no, this view was new to F… We had more to climb.
Yes, i am really that far behind.
At this point i was curious where i was going to find someone to carry me up the hill. I had even confused Jack into not committing to the climb. (She is used to F going and hiding around the corner and scaring her as she walks by, so they are not always so confident in following him blindly forward when there’s someone else along.) But the only one i could find to keep up with:
It's sad when the lazy dog is not only keeping up with me, but actually using me as shade to relax in as we hike (but at least my toes are glittery!).
I literally dragged myself up the last crest, fighting the entire way about how stupid i had been in choosing Up. How is that helpful internal monologue? Ultimately, it wasn’t as bad as i was making myself think (isn’t that always the way with these things?). But F was lounging on a bench at the top, waiting for me by the time Gouda and i finally took in the view.
And by Gouda and i, i mean that Gouda went and laid in the shade for as long as we took a good look at the fog over Avila Beach.
At least Colby looks a little tired. Even though he's 11 it still makes me feel better that he's winded.
The climb down was uneventful, except that Gouda gave up at some point and we (and by we, i mean the other Corgis and i) had to send F back up to get him. I’m sure there was a pic-a-nic basket somewhere up there calling his name far louder than we could even hope while waiting at the car.
We went for a walk every day that weekend, as F promised to keep me in shape for this mad dash south. But he was also good enough to have a large glass of white wine chilling for me as soon as we arrived back at the Corgi Farm.
If i could train for this trip by the wine alone, i would, but i think that F has the way to it. I think i can pretty much tell myself to exercise at any point as long as i know that i’m going to have a nice glass of pinot grigio afterwards.
Except tonight; tonight i had a wonderful beer and will shower and sleep. Lifting a pint is exercise, right?
H
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R:
Rule #2: Don't Die. 