Saturday, February 13, 2016

Rock The Moc

Last night at dinner, Ed and my friend Kim decided they were going to walk Tumamoc Hill.  As always, Kim asked if I wanted to join them and as always I said, "Ummmm.  No."

In the wee (very wee) hours of the morning, because Ed couldn't sleep, he tapped me on the shoulder.  I turned toward him and he tapped me on the tip of my nose.  "Wanna come with me and Kim to Tumamoc today?" he asked.  I think I grumbled an answer.

It was 3 a.m.

At 6:45 a.m. I woke up, arranged my hair in a 'do that wouldn't scare strangers, and threw on my walking clothes and shoes, which are essentially regular clothes and shoes since I don't own clothes specifically for exercise.

We picked up Kim, drove to "The Moc" as the local freaks call it, and met up with our two other friends. Then we started up what Kim called "the easy part".
Fuck her.  It wasn't easy at all

The "easy part" was the longest hill I've ever walked - for exercise - in my life. I did a few hills like this in Italy, but c'mon, they were in Italy, where at the top of them you have the opportunity to reward your efforts with something quintessentially Italian - a panino, coffee, a cornetto, gelato.

But at the top of The Moc, from what I've been told since I've never been to the top, there's nothing.  Not even a soda machine.  At the one-and-a-half-mile mark there's a water fountain and a porta-potty.

Everyone went ahead of me, at my insistence, and I kept trudging on.  Step by step. 

People passed in droves.  Old people.  Young people.  Fat people.  Thin people.  As each one passed, I thought to myself, why the hell do people do this?  

I knew I was making a little progress though, because when I looked back I saw a considerable decline and a view.  I was actually higher than where I had started.
It wasn't hot, so that was a plus. And the people watching was interesting.

I eventually made it to the halfway point - see the yellow "You Are Here" star?  That's where I called it a day. Ed, Kim, Corey and Andy continued on, but only Andy and Ed went all the way to the top.

The one switchback was enough for me.  
My Map My Walk app clocked me at .97 of a mile, so I walked around a bit more to bump it up to a mile and waited for them rest of them to come back down. Before I plopped myself down on a bench to wait, I noticed a mailbox enhanced with a saguaro.

There was a question on it - I don't know if they change the question since this was my first time up here - that said, "What stereotypes are there about your community?  And how do they make you feel?"

Interesting idea, but I don't know how many people are hiking with a notebook. I'm usually fully equipped for any situation - pens, paper, safety pins, baby wipes, Sharpies, gum, etc. - but even I only had my phone and water bottle with me.  I did not leave my story.

Overall, I guess it wasn't horrible, but it just seemed like a chore, something to do and just get over with. At this point, I can't really see myself wanting to do it again.

The only positive comments I can make are that I had a good time with Ed and my friends (who were extremely proud of my effort, which made me feel great), it wasn't hot, and the view at the top was expansive.

You can see for miles and miles, which I suppose is nice, but I've seen this view before and once is really enough for me.  So there.  You have that.

Even friends thousands of miles away seemed to question my sanity.  At 7:59 a.m. as I was ascending the hill, I got a text from Marlaina that said, "Are you climbing that mountain?????"

FIVE question marks.  FIVE.  I kid you not.

She can see where I am because we keep track of each other through the Find My Friends app.  I'm sure she thought someone stole my phone.

I texted back, "I'm trying.  It's a bitch.  Kim, Ed, and Kim's friends Corey and Andy are way ahead of me."

"Jeez.  That's a little ambitious.  Are you drunk?"

She knows me so well.  Because, really, what other reason could there be for me to be climbing a 3,000 foot mountain at eight in the morning??

Her last text on the subject said, "I wouldn't even do it if I were paid in Stuart Weitzman shoes and Longchamp bags."

This coming from a very tiny, very fit person.

Then she sent me this article.

Just in the nick of time, too, because Corey sent me a Facebook event invite to "Walk The Moc" next week.  Now I might just have a really good reason for not going.

I don't want to die prematurely.

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Hustle And Bustle In Ancient Guatemala

2014: The Flakes Got Up Early And Stayed All Day
2013: Headed For A Slow Boat To China
2012: A Roaring Forties Tasmanian Devil Of A Blue
2011: Waiter! There’s A Beer In My Soup!
2010: I’d Rather Go Naked Than Wear Wolf
2009: Eddie Getting His Licks Friday
2008: The Place Is In Ruins
2007: Winter Shadows
2006: The Angels Of The New York D.O.T.
2005: Sorry, no post on this day. The blog didn’t start until May 2005!

1 comment:

Marlainaa said...

I stand by my position, nothing good comes from extreme exercise. Cheesy exercise done daily, little stretch, little walk brings BIG results.