We decided on a whim to go climb a little mountain. My deep subconscious was wailing, "Moron! Did you forget about your four Tibial Tubercle Transfer surgeries? Hah. Your knees are toast!" I did not hear it because the sun was shining and what the hell, right?
A lovely hike, steep and grueling (I will not talk about how many times we were passed by older people practically jogging, telling long stories in various voices, whistling and singing with full lungs while Mariah and I had to sign each other to communicate, our bodies quivering with exhaustion). But we made it to the top. Accomplishment! Victory! Betrayal! How did all of these little kids and old people and even a woman with a walker get to the top? And there it was, next to all of the parked cars. There at the top, a very well maintained road. DOH!
Truth be told, we thought about hitching a ride back down to where we parked at the bottom.
But instead we toughed it out. Which is where the major mistake was made. I had known from previous knee injuries that downhill is much harder than uphill. Well, even so carrying 45 pounds of wiggling laughter/whining.
It was a great trip. I can't wait until the next time we go. I hope they have wheelchair access.