ok...so...I went on a hike last weekend. For 6 hours. Through the Santa Monica Mountains in Malibu. With a lot of people I didn't know. And my feet; the part between my feet and ankle; ankles; legs, hips and "Diamond" are all cussing me out (Diamond = vagina).
Now, how did this happen? Ki. My sweet, beautiful, friend Ki invited me to go hiking. It was advertised as a 3.5 hour easy/moderate (read the words easy/moderate thrice) 7.5-mile trail. Sounds like a normal L.A. hike to me, right? So, Dope. I was in!
Except, nope. I was almost taken out.
FULL DISCLOSURE: I am in moderate shape. Thanks to my trainer, I have been able to accomplish amazing goals, i.e. touching my toes! And mind you, as I was celebrating this feat, a random man said, "Great job. Weight loss pays off." (Except I've been small all my life). So, I guess I am making two points: the gym guy is an asshole and I didn't fucking belong on a 6-hour trek through the mountains!
The trek started off well. Normal, even for a morning hike. But after 2.5 hours of continuous ascension and dense foggy conditions, all I could think about was going back. But there were about 8 other people, and of course Ki invited me. Who wants to be the friend who decides to just quit? So, I continued against the best interests of my life.
I expected "tough" moments on a hike. I did not expect that I would start thinking about just jumping off a 1,000-foot mountain to ease my pain.
I expected to come back home. I did not expect for that to be a question. I began thinking, will I make it home? I had other questions like: where did I come from?, is where I came from real?,does civilization really exist? and most importantly, will I ever taste another burger again? Then I thought, Jesus, I didn't even get married yet. In retrospect, I realized that when I go into survival mode, I not only begin to question real life, but I don't even think about anything worthwhile...
At around noon, we all decided to "turn around." Yep! We were on one of those non-loop trails...
And when my legs heard that, they whipped around so fast, you would have easily mistaken me for Sofia from "The Color Purple" when she run-walks to Miss Celie to confront her about telling Harpo to beat her.
By this time, the fog lifted, and I could see the 1,000 feet or so of ground below me, and all I wanted more than anything in life, at that moment in my life, was to step foot on it.
..until a fellow hiker said it's going to take another two hours to get back...
..and then jumping off the mountain really did seem like a damn good idea.
However I pressed on. I officially introduced myself to the ankles and said, Hello! I am about to beat you to death. Don't hold it against me.
As for the leader of this Hike to Jesus, a young man named Ralph. I wish I could be upset with him, but I can't. His name is Ralph. When you associate this name with one of the greatest Christmas movies ever made (actually, it's Ralphie but whatever), you can't be mad. You just can't.
However, Ki and Ralph - I am sending you an invoice for a new lower body. This one is threatening to leave me. And I don't blame it.