A New Love: Hiking

On a recent hike with Glenn’s parents – they came to visit us – you should too!

Hiking has never been my “sport” or whatever it’s called. I grew up hiking all over the Alps {pause for me to stick my nose in the air and you to roll your eyes at my snobbery} and even had fancy hiking shoes we picked out at Adventure 16. They were grey, hot pink, and teal. Totally hot in 1993. Would have matched my neon yellow paint-splattered ski jacket I also used to wear when skiing {where else} in the Alps.

When we moved back to Southern California anything that was dubbed a hike involved excessive amounts of dry dirt, Mother Sun beating down on me and making me sweat until I had lost all the fluid in my body via my armpits and upper lip, and people who were far more physically fit than I was spelunking up and down cliffs that might as well have been the Grand Canyon.  Hiking, it seemed, was no longer my thing.

Fast forward to today: I am living in The Natural State, I call myself an athlete, I have come to grips with my excessive sweating, and there’s no sign of dry dirt from here to the Mississippi {which is not far away, btw}. Dare I try hiking again? I dare. Here’s why:

When you go on a hike, you see lots of pretty trees.

When you go on a hike, you feel strong because you walk up steep hills and climb over big rocks.

When you go on a hike, you eventually get to the top of the mountain, which results in a feeling of accomplishment and a pretty view of your surroundings. Both are good.

Yay hiking! Well, short hikes anyway. If you’re planning on actually spelunking the Grand Canyon, don’t call me.