...begins with one step so they say. And that is the story of Vernal Falls.
please note: you get a sneak peak at what I'm thinking in the italics
Episode IV: A New Hope
The days of May 19th-22nd proved to be the hurricane rather than the eye I was looking forward to. After a good weigh-in, a scramble to re-pack the car, a heart-felt conversation about being a grown up and self-care(inflicted by me to another), another car re-pack, an almost too slow pick-up of a terribly laid back friend, and yet another re-pack, four friends were on their way to Yosemite National Park to meet two others that were waiting for us.
After a 2:30am arrival, we slept and arose to tackle hiking on a beautiful Friday morning. Sophie found us a "moderate" hike and suggests that we all do a moderate hike and then we split up so that I could do an easy hike and the super-athletes could do a strenuos hike.
Great! I can't begin to think about doing a strenous hike! My friends are rad about taking my un-fit but into account. I am so embarrassed. Oh, well. I'm used to it.
So we head toward Vernal Falls.
Moderate was a good description of the 3/4 mile up/down/up/up/up/up/down trot to the bottom of the falls, where we met a small bridge and felt a light mist occasionally cool our bare flesh.
"The top of the falls is only another 3/4 mile - and besides, this is a moderate hike"
For 1/4 mile we climb steeply to a fork in the road. My heart is pumping pretty hard, but I am not in pain. My legs are tired. I hate being out of shape. Good thing I'm loosing weight. A small sea has formed in the small of back and around my neck from the salt-water spring that is my forehead I am so gross:
A sign:
Nevada Falls -->
Vernal Falls: go up
Genius girl (yeah, that's me) announces that she wants to go to the top. This is only a moderate - I can do a moderate right?
The others shrug and start up what quickly becomes the hardest hike most of us have experienced including the athletes. why is this so hard? what am I thinking? what am doing?
The last 1/2 mile is 600 granite steps of various shapes and sizes with a literal shower of Falls spray attacking like little darts.
The first step finds me looking up a massive wall of granite, soaked with icecold melt off.
Ok, I can do this - just take it slow. My confidence is building. I feel good. I can do this. I can do this.
My leg raises to connect with the first step, and suddenly this is no longer a hike up a fall.
It is a battle for the rest of my life.
More to come...
Wednesday, June 8
Monday, June 6
Embarrassing
So I decided to go on this hike that I went on last summer with my buddy Eric. Last summer I was totally out of breath, unable to make it to the top without stopping 8bazillion times, and really hurting the next day.
I thought that I would go and prove to myself that after all this freaking hard work, I could make it up the dumb mountain without stopping; that I would conquer this heckof hard hike after all.
SO, I start out at 10:40 yesterday morning at the trailhead. By 11:50 I was sitting on a rock past the peak and looking at a blanket (crazy-cool - it looked EXACTLY like a blanket) of clouds covering the Tri-Valley. And I wasn't even breathing hard.
The thing is, I am totally embarrassed. Seriously folks, this, honestly, was an easy hike: slight incline for .5 mile, flatish for about a mile, kinda steep incline on switchbacks for .25 mile. Yes, yes: any human will have sweat and heavier breathing ensue, but not that much. It was the weirdest mix of emotions I have had so far with this health journey - I was glad that I hiked, but terribly shamed that I couldn't do it before.
My Dad tried to cheer me up by telling me to "rejoice in the fact that I saw a significant improvement in my cardiovascular function." Thanks Dad.
You always see the healthy side of life.
Several other friends are like "great job" and "you did it" and that is rad, but I still have this horrible feeling that I should have been able to do it in the first place.
I guess I had a reality check: I was really, really, really, really unfit. Really.
I don't think I ever realized exactly how unfit I was.
Wow, there's a dose of mortality for you. Rather, for me.
Well, enough of that. Next weekend looks like a hike up to the Hollywood sign. Hopefully I will remember to bring my camera for once.
I thought that I would go and prove to myself that after all this freaking hard work, I could make it up the dumb mountain without stopping; that I would conquer this heckof hard hike after all.
SO, I start out at 10:40 yesterday morning at the trailhead. By 11:50 I was sitting on a rock past the peak and looking at a blanket (crazy-cool - it looked EXACTLY like a blanket) of clouds covering the Tri-Valley. And I wasn't even breathing hard.
The thing is, I am totally embarrassed. Seriously folks, this, honestly, was an easy hike: slight incline for .5 mile, flatish for about a mile, kinda steep incline on switchbacks for .25 mile. Yes, yes: any human will have sweat and heavier breathing ensue, but not that much. It was the weirdest mix of emotions I have had so far with this health journey - I was glad that I hiked, but terribly shamed that I couldn't do it before.
My Dad tried to cheer me up by telling me to "rejoice in the fact that I saw a significant improvement in my cardiovascular function." Thanks Dad.
You always see the healthy side of life.
Several other friends are like "great job" and "you did it" and that is rad, but I still have this horrible feeling that I should have been able to do it in the first place.
I guess I had a reality check: I was really, really, really, really unfit. Really.
I don't think I ever realized exactly how unfit I was.
Wow, there's a dose of mortality for you. Rather, for me.
Well, enough of that. Next weekend looks like a hike up to the Hollywood sign. Hopefully I will remember to bring my camera for once.
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