Needle, Meet Haystack

“Man, the parking here is shit,” I said to my friend as we continued past the sixth full lot in the park and made a U-turn to double back.  ”It almost seems like we’ll have more of a hike to and from the car.”

“Hopefully not.” he replied, milliseconds before his eyes dashed across the road and his arm shot up to point.  ”THERE!  SPOT!  SPOT!”

I pulled my car into the spot and we hopped out, ready to start our Sunday midday hike.  It was 70 degrees and sunny out with a slight breeze, and aside from the dozens of vehicles and a veritable army of lycra-wearing women and shirtless dudes in gym shorts with Ray-Bans and iPods strapped to their arms, it was peaceful and serene.  We stretched our legs a bit, grabbed our water bottles, and made our way to the starting point of the trail.

DO NOT STRAY FROM THE PATH.  DOING SO CAUSES EROSION.  The sign at the foot of the mountain said.  DO NOT LITTER.  THERE WILL BE A FINE.

And with that, we set off.

It’s at this point that I feel that I should mention that the last time that I went on any sort of hike was well over two years ago, and there’s a very good reason for that.  My natural awkwardness and lack of outward stability makes going over rugged terrain less than ideal.  Put me on a flat track or even a cross-country path and I’ll be fine.  But real, honest-to-goodness hiking and going uphill and looking over the side whilst remembering that I have a fear of falling from heights?  There might be trouble.

The two of us went at a leisurely pace, allowing the quicker and more experienced hikers to go ahead of us.  And by “quicker and more experienced hikers,” I don’t mean just the shirtless guys who were sprinting uphill and showing off their abs or their lycra-clad girlfriends leaping from rock to rock like spandexed mountain goats, but fifty-somethings, elementary school kids, and in one particular case, a dog.  It was at this point that I realized that I might not be in ideal physical shape.

No, that probably was around when I thought that we were near the top, only to realize that the halfway marker was still further up along the trail.

Or maybe it was the time that I needed to take a break, which went from a 30-second rest and stretch session to 5 minutes of mild nausea.

Oh, wait, now I remember!  It was that time that I thought that we were near the top, but it turned out that there was about 1/3 of the trail left to go.

Wait, maybe it was when the family of four passed us.  Twice.  ”Look guys, we’re passing those teenagers again!” the father exclaimed.  I was too winded to correct him.

By the time we were closing in on the fifth potential peak of the mountain, we had made several astute observations: (1) The mountain was like Lord of the Rings: Return of the King – too many false endings. (2) If this wasn’t the actual peak, it would be. (3) If this was the actual peak, woo hoo! (4) Someone should build an elevator into the side of the mountain.  And, with less than 200 feet and one steep incline to go, I stopped.

“Go on without me,” I said, in a tone I imagine sounded like the wounded marine with two grenades and one clip left in his gun in every sci-fi movie ever.  ”I think this is a good place to stop.”

My friend tried to argue.  ”But you can see the top from here!  It’s not that far!  You can make it!”

Unfortunately, my legs felt like limp noodles.  So, after a bit of back-and-forth, I convinced him to go on ahead.

After a couple of minutes (and about a dozen hikers) had passed, something strange happened.  My legs started to move of their own volition, and I found myself hiking up to the peak.  I don’t know how it happened, or where the energy came from.  But less than two minutes later, I found myself looking out on the city, stretched out on the other side of the mountain preserve:

We sat on the mountain among the other hikers, admiring the view and relaxing, basking in a rather minuscule accomplishment, but a satisfying one at that.  It was nice to reach the top and not have to worry about climbing any higher.

Now all we had to do was go back down.