Sunday, September 1, 2013

Loop of doom, mood fo' pool

Several weeks ago, Amie, Marlo and I went on this hike from Slide Canyon to Slate Canyon. We thought it would take a couple of hours and be hard for the first mile, which was the Y Trail. (For anyone who doesn't know, the trail up to the Y is one mile, 11 switchbacks, about 1,500 feet of elevation gain. It is the worst hike ever invented.)

Anyway, that hike preceded our worst hike ever. It took six hours. Her husband, who was picking us up at the end, was there three hours early and almost called search and rescue because Amie wasn't answering her phone. Meanwhile, we trudged up -- and up -- and up -- for about three hours, then tried not to tumble head first -- or in Amie's case, baby first -- out of that stupid canyon. We still talk about it and have special pet names for it, such as the hike where we almost died, the hike of death and the loop of doom.

Fast forward to today. I'm in this contest for whoever exercises the most. As I've said before, I'm the weak link on this team, and today is the last day of the contest. One of my teammates did, like, eight different workouts today, and the other two are climbing up a mountain with snowboards or skis on their backs, going down a glacier and then hiking down. So, short of climbing Timpanogos again, I went for the most vigorous hike I could think of -- the loop of doom.

It was really hard. I hiked up -- and up -- and up -- then ran down. Running is vigorous. But -- done!



It's been a weird 72 hours. I'm now officially unemployed and homeless (and watching "Saved By The Bell" on Netflix, so I can't complain too much). On Friday morning I went Dumpster diving -- and got caught! I tried to act natural when the store employee came out of the store, but realistically, I'm standing in an alley right by a Dumpster with my car door open and the engine running. There's no other possible reason for me to be there.

For the record, I was going for boxes. Nothing too awkward.

My last day of work was uneventful. I cried a little on the way home and might have cried if I hadn't been so utterly exhausted from moving, again. Marissa and I had a sleepover on couches in the living room that lasted for about two minutes until we both completely crashed. Saturday morning I moved said couches, plus a washer and a dryer. I used muscles and movements that I had heretofore only used in the gym. (Vigorous exercise!) Then I went paddleboarding. Have you done this? If not, you should. You take a paddle and a board and float yourself out onto a lake, and then, if you're me, you fall in a LOT. Which also provides the opportunity of scooting back on the board and then just lying there for a few minutes.

Today at church I tried not to be offended that my friend who just moved into the ward had her records transferred in a week -- when that week was stake conference -- when it took them two months to get mine. I would have cared more but I was, well, really tired.

Now I'm going for a walk. Gotta get those minutes in!

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