I've been wanting for Twila to start blogging again, because it seems easiest and best when we do it together. She's insistent on having a "theme", though, and she hasn't thought of one yet.
Yesterday we climbed 3 miles up Round Mountain. I considered it training for my attempt at Pikes Peak in about 6 weeks. (Twila could climb Pikes Peak tomorrow, if she wanted to. She could probably climb Mt. Everest, if it weren't all icy and stuff.)
The hike was difficult, but not as hard as the last time. That's a good sign, maybe. But when we got to the bottom, Twila said, "Wow. That was fun." And I was like, "Huh?"
We're all pleasure people, I suppose. Really, who doesn't like pleasure? It's kind of in the definition. But when I think of pleasure I think of cuddling, having my feet massaged by my super chair, a hot shower, web surfing, or an afternoon nap. Twila thinks pleasure is struggling up the side of a mountain for 12 hours, clambering over rocks and boulders, gasping for breath at high altitudes, fighting past constant pain, putting up with bone-chilling cold or intense heat (sometimes on the same hike), and forcing your body to do things it doesn't want to do, and probably was not designed to do, except in extreme emergencies.
So we did climb Round Mountain, and I felt some satisfaction, but when she said, "Wow. That was fun.", my oxygen- and nutrient-deprived brain could not grasp what she meant. I'm still working on it.
Tomorrow night we're going to Denver for dinner and then a Chris Bliss show. Chris Bliss is the guy who went viral a couple of years ago by juggling to a Beatles tune, or something. I don't really remember what it was, but I know seeing him is going to be a lot more fun than climbing Round Mountain.
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