View from the Top
The highly anticipated (read: dreaded) climb up The Incline took place on Saturday. It was, once again, everything my nightmares predicted it would be. This being my second trek up the mountain, I knew what to expect.
I knew immediately upon our departure that this time would be no better than the last. The trail appeared not to have changed one bit and I myself am at pretty much the same woeful level of fitness that I was last time I made the journey. I'm not sure what I expected, but it may have involved fantasies about Incline-flattening landslides or extreme, landscape-altering erosion. No such luck.
As the trail rises 2000+ feet in elevation over the course of a mile, with a 68% grade at its steepest point, I will describe to you what took place at each elevation.
6574 feet: Okay, I can do this. I've been working out steadily and have really seen an improvement in my stamina. Surely it will be better this time.
6600 feet: Um, I have literally walked up the equivalent of one flight of stairs. Please tell me my legs are not already burning.
6800 feet: It was here that the profuse sweating and subsequent unbearable stench began.
7000 feet: Then came the crying because that was the "easy" part of the trail.
7200 feet: I can make it to that tree. I can. Just keep walking. Ignore the searing pain in your quadriceps.
7600 feet: At this point, no less than 3 people stopped to "check on me" and some offered to give me CPR if I felt it was necessary. People: My friends are sitting right here. If I needed CPR, surely they wouldn't be laughing and pointing at me. Context clues. And do people usually give CPR to a person who is conscious, anyhow?
7601-8300ish feet: I feel the need to shield you, to somehow protect you from the dark and desperate times that occurred between this period, so I shall spare you most of the details. Suffice it to say that by the end of it, I was sure that should I perish on this path, there was little chance of me being admitted into Heaven.***
8301 feet: The False Summit. The Dream Crusher. No matter how many times you tell yourself it's there and you're going to have to face it, it will inevitably steal part of your soul when you reach the crest and see how far you've left to go.
8400 feet: It was here that the two legs I was given by my Creator mutinied against me and failed to be sufficient for the remainder of the journey. The next twenty minutes were spent in the fetal position trying to coax them back into submission to my Brain Stem, knowing that should they refuse, I was going to have to army crawl the rest of the way or be airlifted out.
8585 feet: I made it. And yet the trauma of it all prevented me from feeling any type of joy or satisfaction from reaching the top.
Then we walked the four mile trail back to the bottom, as climbing back down The Incline is hazardous to your health. Wonder why that didn't stop us from climbing up it?
Then I spent the remainder of Saturday and most of Sunday curled up in my bed muttering things that were incomprehensible even to myself.
What did you do this weekend?
***Please note that this post is dripping with sarcasm and I in no way believe that our works (or lack thereof) are the deciding factor in what permits us to enter Heaven. The blood of Christ as forgiveness for our sins is the only way into Heaven.
I knew immediately upon our departure that this time would be no better than the last. The trail appeared not to have changed one bit and I myself am at pretty much the same woeful level of fitness that I was last time I made the journey. I'm not sure what I expected, but it may have involved fantasies about Incline-flattening landslides or extreme, landscape-altering erosion. No such luck.
As the trail rises 2000+ feet in elevation over the course of a mile, with a 68% grade at its steepest point, I will describe to you what took place at each elevation.
6574 feet: Okay, I can do this. I've been working out steadily and have really seen an improvement in my stamina. Surely it will be better this time.
6600 feet: Um, I have literally walked up the equivalent of one flight of stairs. Please tell me my legs are not already burning.
6800 feet: It was here that the profuse sweating and subsequent unbearable stench began.
7000 feet: Then came the crying because that was the "easy" part of the trail.
7200 feet: I can make it to that tree. I can. Just keep walking. Ignore the searing pain in your quadriceps.
7600 feet: At this point, no less than 3 people stopped to "check on me" and some offered to give me CPR if I felt it was necessary. People: My friends are sitting right here. If I needed CPR, surely they wouldn't be laughing and pointing at me. Context clues. And do people usually give CPR to a person who is conscious, anyhow?
7601-8300ish feet: I feel the need to shield you, to somehow protect you from the dark and desperate times that occurred between this period, so I shall spare you most of the details. Suffice it to say that by the end of it, I was sure that should I perish on this path, there was little chance of me being admitted into Heaven.***
8301 feet: The False Summit. The Dream Crusher. No matter how many times you tell yourself it's there and you're going to have to face it, it will inevitably steal part of your soul when you reach the crest and see how far you've left to go.
8400 feet: It was here that the two legs I was given by my Creator mutinied against me and failed to be sufficient for the remainder of the journey. The next twenty minutes were spent in the fetal position trying to coax them back into submission to my Brain Stem, knowing that should they refuse, I was going to have to army crawl the rest of the way or be airlifted out.
8585 feet: I made it. And yet the trauma of it all prevented me from feeling any type of joy or satisfaction from reaching the top.
Then we walked the four mile trail back to the bottom, as climbing back down The Incline is hazardous to your health. Wonder why that didn't stop us from climbing up it?
Then I spent the remainder of Saturday and most of Sunday curled up in my bed muttering things that were incomprehensible even to myself.
What did you do this weekend?
***Please note that this post is dripping with sarcasm and I in no way believe that our works (or lack thereof) are the deciding factor in what permits us to enter Heaven. The blood of Christ as forgiveness for our sins is the only way into Heaven.
At least you did it and lived to tell about it. You go girl. Far more than I could have done.
ReplyDeletePerfectly accurate description of the Incline. Let's blow it up.
ReplyDeleteI really like that the first thing I noticed on that website about the incline was that it's illegal to climb it. :)
ReplyDeleteWay down here in Arkansas--- far removed from that Mt. Everest like place,certainly, I have no connection with such a venture but I do have a conection with you, my granddaughter and I stongly suspect it is the bullheaded stubborn--I can do it part of me in you that might have had a small part in driving you on..>>>>> just like me to want to be a part of a success story.>>>>Great job Micah. See you this week-end. Love Mee-Maw
ReplyDelete