Last night, I got my pack all ready. Laid all my clothes and gear out. Even pre-measured my muesli breakfast and bagged up my trail mix.
Nothing was going to get between me and an early start to another magical day in the mountains.
Except, apparently, my body.
It's been awhile since I've had a "crash" (what we've come to call those days when my body reminds me that first my boobs tried to kill me, then all those super-smart doctors tried to poison me). When it happens, I feel like someone gave me an IV full of cement, poured Clorox down my throat, and performed Riverdance on my head. Not the best conditions under which to tackle a big mountain at high elevation.
Six months ago, I would have tried to "soldier on" or "push through" it. It took awhile, but I finally learned that that just makes it last longer. If I curl up in bed and declare defeat, I'm back to human much faster.
It also helps that I'm chaperoned.
This dog hasn't let me out of her sight all day. She comes into the bathroom with me (I'll spare you the pictures). When I got up to drink some tea, she sat on the kitchen table and watched intently. Then she came back to bed with me and decided to hold me down.
I think she just knows that if I get lots of rest today, we might be able to go for a small hike tomorrow. She may be a great dog, but she still minds her own interest.
So yeah, the reality of my body crashing today was cruel. But the reality of my body still being able to do all those hikes I've been blogging about is pretty freaking awesome. I'll take it. #alive