Saturday, while attending our church women’s retreat, I decided to go on a hike with several other ladies. I’ve done it many times in the past, but this trip up Lookout Mountain felt more difficult for some reason. I was surprised. I exercise to stay in shape, so I could not imagine why this specific jaunt left me breathless and my calf muscles on FIRE.
Though strenuous, it was a delightfully social time. I was able to catch up with a sweet, young, (*read fit) friend. She told me about her job situation and how its face has completely changed in the last year…. incidentally right after she was very content with her station in life. “Isn’t(pant) that always(gasp) the way of it?(wheeze),” I asked her.
Right when I was about to question the legitimacy of my daily exercise regime, we stopped for water. My friend and I were side by side when it hit me. She had at least 6 inches on me. I felt like I was 9 years old again, trying to keep up with both my siblings at the mall who are over 6 feet tall. Their looping gait compared to my 5 ft 3 stammering jog. “Guys, wait up” I would whine.
The view was worth it. At least that’s what I told myself the next day while I was going down my stairs on my bottom because my legs would not bend at the knee.