Plateauing

Well, Mohammad has returned from the mountain.  Alive and in one piece, albeit pieces which made me highly aware of just home many pieces I have and how capable they are of screaming out in complete defiance to the paces through which I forced them.  Phew!  But we were gloriously triumphant.  13 hours of hiking, trekking, bending the knees at every conceivable angle, scrambling, jumping and leaping, trudging, climbing, reaching, balancing, thinking, concentrating, focusing, mind-gaming, burning, shaking and an entire host of other action verbs I'll leave to the imagination.  YOU give it a go and fill in the remaining '-ing' blanks.

 Much easier to ham it up secure in the knowledge that the mountain is BEHIND us and dinner is ahead . . . 

Reading a website, however thorough, simply could not adequately prepare me for what we faced yesterday.  My previous hiking experience entailed three or four hour outings which were safe, with a definite ending that didn't leave me guessing and not a challenge to my fitness, which is above average, that is to say good but not great, and certainly not world class.  (There were several runners of the lean and muscular variety who hopped rock to rock as if channeling the spirit of a nimble mountain goat; feats of jaw-dropping prowess to those of us slowly and carefully making our way cautiously and methodically.)

Whoops!  There's that fatigue poking through . . . 

Unaccustomed as I was to the altitude -- pretty darned flat where I live and walk -- my entire first third of the trip was spent focusing on my breathing.  Right out of the gate, in the cool pre-dawn hours we spent meandering through the forest, I feared my premature failure.  Within the first 50 yards, my lungs felt ready to burst.  Puzzlement led to disappointment which surrendered to a lightbulb moment when me and my sister realized my chest strap was too tight.  The air practically rushed to fill every oxygen-starved nook and cranny!  Still, each inhale and exhale was executed with attention to detail as I adjusted to the backpack and pace of the Colorado-dwellers with me.  Especially with two ex-Marines and a trim 26 year-old blond-haired blue-eyed veterinary student setting the pace.

WHY did I sign on for this . . . this . . . torture?

(Could be the views.   Just check out what's going on behind me!)

My little sister runs several miles most days and hikes very often in terrain which offers a variety of geographic and physical challenges.  But her sleep cycle has been off for awhile, as was mine, and I believe that factor sapped her of a higher level of endurance.  Her body told her just 1/2 mile from the summit that she'd better turn around if she had hopes of returning to the trail head of her own volition.  It just so happens that the final 1/2 mile is THE most difficult and dangerous section of the entire shebang.    With each passing section, moving from one 'bullseye' painted rock to the next, the elevation increased noticeably.  The knees strained; the breathing required catching.  We'd conquered almost 3/4 of the part of the hike referred to as The Trough.  Beyond that was The Narrows -- considered the queasy part for many, what with wall-hugging to the left and a dizzying long way down on the right.  And last, but certainly not easy, the summit climb: consisting of a nearly vertical ascent of hand-over-hand and foot-into-nook journey for the ultimate view and bragging rights.  Followed by a reverse repeat of the entire first 6 1/2 hours of the day!  Starting with a controlled slide down that summit climb.  Two in our party made it to the top: a 6' 5'' ex-Marine who wanted to turn around several times AND his determined young girlfriend who said she shook with fear while awaiting her turn on The Narrows.  Me and my sister turned back just short of the mark with her ex-Marine fiance as our escort.  Bummed as I was, I knew the folly in going at it alone, climbers are repeatedly warned via signs and website and pamphlet to avoid 'summit fever' at the cost of safety, not to mention the many cautionary tales about being stuck on the business side of the mountain if the distant clouds decided to rain down on us.  There was still plenty of which to be proud and self-assured.

And this mountain was mine to climb with my sister.

I'll leave you there for tonight.  I'm falling asleep.  This was started a few days ago.  Evidently, I'm progressing bullseye-to-bullseye with this blog subject much like we did on the mountainside.  Slow and steady and forward motion.

Whatever the reason, I'm thrilled with the accomplishment.
REALLY, I AM!