I do of course realize it’s a little late in the day to be posting a “happy thanksgiving” post … but I have good reason.  I am trying to recover from my near demise today.  This year for thanksgiving, my family decided they would attempt to do me in.  Mostly it was  my sweet daddy’s fault.

After a very filling and delicious lunch at Chris’ house (Chris is Brad’s mom) instead of laying around like fat hens, stretching out watching football and heading back to the table to make ourselves more miserable … my dad decides we are going on a hike.  Yes, you read that correctly, a hike.  He saw a sign a couple miles back about some water falls at a state park near Chris’ house.

He has a thing for water falls and torturing his daughter.  They go hand in hand.  Being the wonderful child that I am or chicken, whichever really, there was no way I was not going to hike with the rest of my family.  I offered to babysit Emma Joy, but Brad beat me to it.  So out the door we go …

My dad, my brother, my daughters and myself drive back the couple miles to the State park.  Feel free to stop at any point and laugh loudly to yourself at the notion of me hiking.  The view from the parking area should have been a clue to me that this really was as bad an idea as I thought it might be.  But how long can 2/3 of a mile really be?  I’ll tell you how long … 2/3 of a mile is exactly equal to 1 bamboo shoot per toe nail.  And to add insult to injury, no one even had a donut tied to a stick for me to follow.  My husband obviously wasn’t here, he would’ve been prepared with donut in hand.

So here is the real kicker, the first 1/3 mile is straight down the side of a mountain … the second 1/3 of a mile is straight up the side of another mountain.  I am now qualified to be a mountain goat herder.  The path was about 6.2 inches wide … I did inquire as to where the plus size hiking path was located but did not get a response, apparantly there isn’t one, go (full size) figure.  I must admit the hike down was fairly easy, it’s the up that got me.  All I could think was:  a) where is Jimmy Brown with my oxygen ockagin?  b) Richard would have really enjoyed seeing me suffer so much (someone remind me the next time I decide to get married to marry an old fat man, not a really in shape younger guy) & c) learn how to say “no” to my daddy. 

I made it to the top of the hill.  I only had a few near death experiences on the way up.  The falls were beautiful. 

They were not beautiful enough for me to hike the additional 2/3 of a mile down to the bottom with the rest of my family but they were very pretty from the top.  Listen, I did my daughterly duty … at some point you just have to stand firm and say this is as far as I go.  That time should probably come when your fat fanny is gasping for air and you find a stump big enough to fit your entire fat fanny on without the fear of falling off and rolling head first 1110 feet straight down the side of a mountain.  Just saying.

So, I waited (that is code for:  I tried to get enough oxygen back into my lungs without calling 911 while they hiked the rest of the way down) while they made their way to the bottom.  Please note how well my children follow directions.

As soon as they started back up from the bottom, I took off back to the car.  There was no need to embarrass myself any further by begging one of them to drag me back up the other side of the mountain.  I did ponder exactly how much ridicule I would have to endure should I just lay down in the trail and pretend I was passed out.  Would they leave me there for bear food or would they drag me back out?  It just wasn’t a chance I was willing to take, Thad has always wanted to be an only child, it would’ve been his perfect chance to accomplish that.  I have to be honest and say, I stopped about 72 times on the way back up and repeated “I think I can I think I can” all the way back up.  I am pretty sure I blacked out at least once and rolled 30 ft back down the mountain.  Not really, but it sure felt like it. 

Alas!  I made it to the top.  I have never, in my entire life been so glad to see a dirt parking lot.  Dad’s explorer resembled a jeweled charriot coming forth to carry me home.  I am certain that I heard rejoicing songs in the air and maybe the Rocky theme song was coming from the blue sky above.

You will be glad to know I have semi recovered.  My heart rate is no longer 975 beats per minute.  I am breathing normally. My legs no longer feel like jello.  I am a bit concerned about what adventure they may come up with for Christmas … I am practicing the whole saying “no” thing over and over! 

ps: did I mention it was only 41 degrees with a strong wind blowing?

me.

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