I married an athlete. A highly competitive athlete. His idea of a good time is running a marathon in Antarctica or climbing the Fourteeners in Colorado or walking 36,000 steps a day – on purpose.
Me? I’m a writer. I enjoy walking, reading, and if there’s a card or a board game on the horizon, deal me in. Fortunately, my husband and I love games and long drives so we’re compatible.
Even so, there are times when we forget ourselves: He forgets I’m not an Olympian, and I fall under the misguided notion that I am.
Surrounding area of A Mountain
Hence the saga of our recent hike up “A” Mountain in Las Cruces. “A” Mountain, so named for the New Mexico State Aggies, is visible from our house. My husband hikes it several times a week – for fun.
Because so many in Las Cruces do this trek, I decided it might be fun, too. So, in preparation for my rocky excursion, I bought a pair of hiking boots.
View, Top of A Mountain
Then off we went. In truth, going up the mountain was fine. Loved the rocky, desert terrain. Loved reaching the top and gasping at the sight of the city.
It was the going down that gave me fits. Instead of traveling the way we came up, my husband worried it was too steep and I would fall.
“I think I can do it,” I said. He disagreed. So we took the LONGGGG way down. I walk a lot, four miles a day ordinarily. What neither of us took into consideration were my new hiking boots.
They’d felt absolutely fine on the way up. On the way down, my toes slammed into the toe cap (I looked it up; it’s called a toe cap). From that point, I became a full-blown wimp and begged him to go get the car. “Can’t,” he said. “It’s gated.”
Ouch!
By the time we reached level ground again, I’d sworn off hiking for good. As a writer I’ll use that experience somewhere in a book.
I learned something, too. Even experienced hikers lament ill-fitting boots. My sport’s enthusiast friend, Paul, let me know there are also machines in some sporting-good stores where you can test out your boots (going up AND down) to make sure your poor little toes won’t pay for the descent later.
As time passes, I’m “almost” ready to try it again. I’ll keep you posted if there’s a next time.
Non-hikers (me being one – I’m a walker much more than a hiker) forget that going down is harder in many aspects than going up. Hope your toe heals up soon! And, yes, all experiences are fodder for books!
Thank you, Tracy! You “nailed” it (forgive my pun!) It’s taking forever to grow a new toenail 🙂 Thanks for stopping by.