Okay I’ve been back for a while…and truthfully it’s not like there was anyone anxiously awaiting my return to the interwebs, but I’ve been so busy since we returned from the grand John Muir Trail adventure. I have a big girl job! Hydrogeology is cool–CARE!
When I’m not doing that I generally spend my time pining for the mountains and with them the daily schedule that allowed me to eat multiple Snickers bars in a day and still lose weight. There’s nothing quite like the freedom from irksome societal expectations that you find while wandering one of the world’s most beautiful places with everything you need on your back. It’s satisfying to rely on yourselves fully, and know that you only have your own intellect and maybe a little luck to get out of any situation that might happen, because even if you walk out for help, it might be over 30 miles.
I might get a little more philosophical about my trip later (and I’ll probably start writing about it somewhere else soon…..dun dun DUN) but for now I’ll just share something funny…because self-deprecation is always funny when it involves injuring funny parts of your body.
Chris and I had to live with my parents for about 10 days before our new apartment was ready. I’m very grateful to them for letting us stay there and keep our whole house (read: mostly my crap) in their garage while we were hiking and finding self-fulfillment and all that. But anyone who has lived with their parents as an adult knows how obnoxious it can be…this is exacerbated once they reach the age where they spend more time in recliners than out of them: answering questions like “what did you do today?” with a catalog of the 80s and 90s detective shows (think “Matlock” and “In the Heat of the Night”) or the Hallmark and Lifetime movies they have watched that day.
By like day 4, my poor body was desperately craving all the activity it had seen every day in the mountains and was now being denied in the recliner palace. So Chris and I decided to go running the next morning to mitigate these lazy shenanigans, and then promptly woke up at
8:00 10:00 a.m. We had somehow already screwed up the miraculous rhythm with nature sleep cycle one acquires when living outside. Ugh, anyway I was determined, so we went running even though it was already pretty hot out. I neglected to have food or water first in an effort to get out before it got hotter….you can see where this is going I think. I had run maybe 1.5 miles (MAYBE) and stopped at the top of a hill to walk.
“VICTORY! I’M SO DELIRIOUS WITH ACCOMPLISHMENT AFTER TOPPING THAT HILL! Wait….is that accomplishment or the onset of exhaustion? Where are all the colors going? I like food and water, why didn’t I get some of that shit??” At that point I leaned against a brick mailbox and don’t remember anything else because I passed out….on my butt. Chris apparently kept me from falling over on my head, but I slid right down that mailbox and popped my tailbone into the lovely crushed limestone below. I “came to” maybe 10 seconds later saying “OUCH!!” That was at the end of September and my bruised tailbone is STILL making it impossible to sit symmetrically for more than a few minutes.
The moral of the story is…you’re not as badass as you think you are. Just because you can hike 170 miles over huge mountain passes at high elevation with 25-30 pounds on your back…doesn’t mean you can run 1.5 miles during midmorning in central Texas.
Other moral of the story…if you have frequent contact with my mom, she doesn’t know about the tailbone incident. I thought it might be best she not worry from now on every time I go jogging, and I definitely wanted to avoid her asking me how my ass is doing every time I talk to her. So to thank me for the opportunity to laugh at my expense, keep that on the DL. You’re welcome.