Body Parts

Without The Killers, Kelly Clarkston, or Taio Cruz jangling in my ears, or my Garmin watch on my wrist to keep me focused on what mile per hour I could maintain, I felt calm and spontaneous as I headed up the mountain.   My nose filled with the pungent smell of pine needles and my ears smiled at the crunching of the rocks and twigs beneath my feet.  My eyes kept focused on the uneven path ahead of me and my mouth was forced open to get my lungs the oxygen they needed from being in less than ideal shape.



After an hour and ten minutes of pushing my hips, legs and heart past the point of being comfortable, I reached the summit.  My lips tasted salty with sweat and my tongue was cursing its owner for forgetting to bring water.  Tired but satisfied, I cautiously lowered myself onto my bottom to enjoy the view of the San Juans.




Before I could get cool, I started back down.  My back was wet from wearing my camera bag and my feet protested a little from being teased by a false finish.  My steady downward stepping allowed my brain to wander from my calling, my friends, my goals, my house, my children, my priorities and what would eventually fill my stomach after eating lunch.  I passed several other hikers who were ascending in their cool and breezy tank tops and shorts and wondered what possessed me to cover my arms with long sleeves and legs with fleece drawstring pants.




Nearing the bottom, I noticed my unnaturally swollen fingers and alternatively squeezed and opened my hands to reduce the pressure.  By this time, the gum I had been chewing for almost two hours was tasteless and thick and my jaw ached from overuse.  I spit it out aways off of the trail and felt the unpleasant thick slime on my teeth.  While certainly not as hard on the cardiovascular system as going up, my knees and thighs were convinced that going downhill was every bit as hard.  I had hiked six miles and my body was tired.