It’s like riding a bike, as easy as falling off a log and an elephant never forgets.
None of that’s very helpful right now.
Rummaging through my backpacking kit is an odd experience. Comfortable and familiar but with a little distance to it, like being in the boxes in my folks attic. I keep finding things and going “Ah…” and “Ooh…” so many memories attached to inanimate objects. That old purple Jetboil just made me smile so damn wide.
I’m not in there to reminisce though, this is practice not theory. I know what to take, I know what to take it in, I’m nearly there with what to wear when I’m taking it, but I’m still a little adrift.
The legs and lungs, what are they going to say about it. Is Holly’s latest school plague virus going to take me down before I get to see if next weeks predicted polar vortex (that does sound like a SyFy or Horror Channel B-movie starring Michael Shanks) stops me before I start?
Questions and unknowns, it’s kind of exciting. Even if this ends on the couch, the desire is there and it’s too strong to ignore anymore.
