Finally, a hike
I've been back from Oklahoma weeks now, and I had sworn to keep on hiking after my great start there. I didn't. This past week, I totally fell off the wagon, not even going to Bally's or yoga classes. Yesterday I was raring to go, in fear of both loss of will and the onset of mid-90's temperatures predicted to start the next day.
I got a late start, which didn't matter, because I can't hike very far yet. I chose Dreamy Draw, an area in one of those Phoenix mountain preserves with lots of trails, bikes, joggers, etc. -- our version of Tulsa's Turkey Mountain.
It was a two-hour hike (okay, maybe 20 minutes of seated gazing included). I hate admitting it, but the first 15 minutes and the last 20 were awful. On a chunky gravel hilly trail in the biting sun, I start out grumpy & awkward, reliving my post-retirement psychological rejection of desert, my inner eyes and heart longing for the cool, wet, green Pacific northwest. But my house is not attracting prospective buyers yet, so I have to face up to serving more time. The sun hurts, it's 84 F, and the spring flowers are mostly already brown and brittle.
Then I saw an ocotillo in full flower, startling against the background of a thousand shades of grayish green and beige. I smiled.
I sat a while at the top of a rocky pimple, listening: rustlings in the breeze, insect sounds, bird calls, bicycle tires, clomp-clomp and a red-faced brown-skinned, sweaty jogger shouts a cheerful hi. Sitting and gazing is the best part of a hike. I can't look or listen very well while worrying about where to put my feet, not falling over, and panting. The eye-ear-brain symphony works best when the body is still. I can't pass up a view and a flat rock.
For the next hour or so, moving up and down moderate slopes with my new hi-tech walking stick was pure pleasure. Then I began to tire. Tired, I began to worry whether the path I was on would actually get me back to the parking lot before I ran out of steam. It did, barely. My face in the car mirror was frighteningly scarlet, even with sunscreen and plenty of water. My body ached and yearned for the horizontal.
Okay, I'm in lousy shape. The lazy bucket of KFC thighs and drumsticks fetched by my helpful partner hit the spot. It seemed like a logical balance for the huge salad I'd had for lunch. The vanilla swiss almond Haagen-Dazs was even better. Today I slept past noon and missed another yoga class. It's a struggle to be me.
I got a late start, which didn't matter, because I can't hike very far yet. I chose Dreamy Draw, an area in one of those Phoenix mountain preserves with lots of trails, bikes, joggers, etc. -- our version of Tulsa's Turkey Mountain.
It was a two-hour hike (okay, maybe 20 minutes of seated gazing included). I hate admitting it, but the first 15 minutes and the last 20 were awful. On a chunky gravel hilly trail in the biting sun, I start out grumpy & awkward, reliving my post-retirement psychological rejection of desert, my inner eyes and heart longing for the cool, wet, green Pacific northwest. But my house is not attracting prospective buyers yet, so I have to face up to serving more time. The sun hurts, it's 84 F, and the spring flowers are mostly already brown and brittle.
Then I saw an ocotillo in full flower, startling against the background of a thousand shades of grayish green and beige. I smiled.
I sat a while at the top of a rocky pimple, listening: rustlings in the breeze, insect sounds, bird calls, bicycle tires, clomp-clomp and a red-faced brown-skinned, sweaty jogger shouts a cheerful hi. Sitting and gazing is the best part of a hike. I can't look or listen very well while worrying about where to put my feet, not falling over, and panting. The eye-ear-brain symphony works best when the body is still. I can't pass up a view and a flat rock.
For the next hour or so, moving up and down moderate slopes with my new hi-tech walking stick was pure pleasure. Then I began to tire. Tired, I began to worry whether the path I was on would actually get me back to the parking lot before I ran out of steam. It did, barely. My face in the car mirror was frighteningly scarlet, even with sunscreen and plenty of water. My body ached and yearned for the horizontal.
Okay, I'm in lousy shape. The lazy bucket of KFC thighs and drumsticks fetched by my helpful partner hit the spot. It seemed like a logical balance for the huge salad I'd had for lunch. The vanilla swiss almond Haagen-Dazs was even better. Today I slept past noon and missed another yoga class. It's a struggle to be me.
posted by Cranky Ol' Lady at 3:08 PM
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