On the Success of Positivity
I have been LAZY.
The following post has almost rotten in my draft folder. Well, better late than never.
"Yesterday was Memorial Day. Usually set aside for the adventures of pools, camping, barbeques, and hiking, I was determined to follow tradition. Kristen, Hank and I settled on the adventure of hiking the Grand Canyon South Rim to the Colorado River and back in one day. Sunday's research section warned us repeatedly "DO NOT ATTEMPT TO HIKE RIM TO RIVER AND BACK IN ONE DAY."
Katelin: "That was written for people who are out of shape. We run half-marathons!"
Hank: "I should inform my family that I could be dead tomorrow."
Kristen: "I am officially nervous about this, guys."
Katelin: "It will be fine. I did it last year and I was horribly out of shape."
Hank: "Alright, as long as it is not raining."
AND IT WAS. We arrived at the Grand Canyon at 7:30 to bipolar rain. One minute it would pour torrents from the sky to the point I believed Niagara Falls were hidden in the clouds. The next moment, the rain would drizzle faintly down to lightly coat my eyelashes. The latter I greatly enjoyed since it was similar to looking through bubbles. There was no hint of relinquishing fury from the cloud filled skys, but I was going to hike the canyon even if I had to go alone.
Dragging my doomed companions farther into the depths was the easy part once the sun showed his face, like I knew he would. God answers prayers.
Crawling out again was akin to jaywalking in New York (not impossible, but it's pretty darn hard to not die). Don't get me wrong, the canyon is GORGEOUS. Every turn you make is brilliantly different from the last. Colors change from hazy blues to bright reds, greens, teals, yellows, oranges, and the blue of the Colorado. That said, the way up winds through wild gardens of green and cliffs bordering on Princes Bride insanity.
Surprisingly, it was not until below the last rise that I looked up and thought I was going to die. Hank had been struggling from almost seven miles back, Kristen ran to the top from the three mile point, and I laughed in the face of danger! Hank and I plodded on with a goofy, "I can't believe we are doing this" grin on my face and one of pure desperation on his. We made it to the top to find Kristen lounging on the sidewalk and a feeling of supreme accomplishment.
The following post has almost rotten in my draft folder. Well, better late than never.
"Yesterday was Memorial Day. Usually set aside for the adventures of pools, camping, barbeques, and hiking, I was determined to follow tradition. Kristen, Hank and I settled on the adventure of hiking the Grand Canyon South Rim to the Colorado River and back in one day. Sunday's research section warned us repeatedly "DO NOT ATTEMPT TO HIKE RIM TO RIVER AND BACK IN ONE DAY."
Katelin: "That was written for people who are out of shape. We run half-marathons!"
Hank: "I should inform my family that I could be dead tomorrow."
Kristen: "I am officially nervous about this, guys."
Katelin: "It will be fine. I did it last year and I was horribly out of shape."
Hank: "Alright, as long as it is not raining."
AND IT WAS. We arrived at the Grand Canyon at 7:30 to bipolar rain. One minute it would pour torrents from the sky to the point I believed Niagara Falls were hidden in the clouds. The next moment, the rain would drizzle faintly down to lightly coat my eyelashes. The latter I greatly enjoyed since it was similar to looking through bubbles. There was no hint of relinquishing fury from the cloud filled skys, but I was going to hike the canyon even if I had to go alone.
Dragging my doomed companions farther into the depths was the easy part once the sun showed his face, like I knew he would. God answers prayers.
Crawling out again was akin to jaywalking in New York (not impossible, but it's pretty darn hard to not die). Don't get me wrong, the canyon is GORGEOUS. Every turn you make is brilliantly different from the last. Colors change from hazy blues to bright reds, greens, teals, yellows, oranges, and the blue of the Colorado. That said, the way up winds through wild gardens of green and cliffs bordering on Princes Bride insanity.
Surprisingly, it was not until below the last rise that I looked up and thought I was going to die. Hank had been struggling from almost seven miles back, Kristen ran to the top from the three mile point, and I laughed in the face of danger! Hank and I plodded on with a goofy, "I can't believe we are doing this" grin on my face and one of pure desperation on his. We made it to the top to find Kristen lounging on the sidewalk and a feeling of supreme accomplishment.
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