A week ago, I turned 29. I could freak out about the fact the fact that I am getting dangerously close to 30, but since I choose to surround myself with really, really old people, I still feel relatively young.
Last year JK organized a surprise hike to Poo Poo Point (along with said gang of geriatrics) on my birthday, and I loved celebrating by hiking. This year there was no sneaky planning needed; my aging would occur on a Thursday and TNAB was headed for Pratt Mountain.
I felt sprightly and fabulous all the way to Talapus Lake, but then we started actually hiking uphill instead of strolling along on mellow switchbacks. Suddenly all those old folks were miles ahead of me as I wheezed and moaned my way up the ridge.
At long last I reached the summit and was rewarded with views of the vast nothingness. At least the others took pity on me and waited to make sure I made it into the group shot (and got me tipsy at the Pour House afterwards).
Did I say that I still feel young? Maybe not so much after this hike.
(My birthday present was one o’ them fancy GPS gizmos! It looks like I’ll actually have to read the manual for this thing since that straight line you see in the track extends all the way to Taiwan – presumably the home of the Garmin factory. 18,000 feet of elevation gain? That’s one hell of a TNAB!)