Last weekend was a little crazy. I ran a 5k Saturday morning (the spotted monster and I came in at 24:33) and then catered a 13 hour wedding (actually the wedding was only about 10 hours, but hand washing all their dishware took well over 3 hours). I didn't get home until two in the morning. I spent most of Sunday on the couch complaining about how much my feet hurt and watching my blood sugars play out like the profile of a mountain range (high. low. high. low.).
But that is nothing compared to the daunting task that awaits me this weekend: Long's Peak, aka "The Bitch." Seven miles of unrelenting trail with hazards like "the boulder field," "the aunt hill," "the narrows," and "the ledge." 14,225 feet of elevation gain (ok that's not exactly true, but it certainly feels like that much). A billion rock stairs to heave yourself up (seriously, no exaggeration). 3,000 foot cliffs guarding the final ascent. And when you do finally make it to the top, you just have to turn around and do it all again.
This will be my fourth Long's climb (despite me swearing that I will never do it again each and every time I do it). The first time, I wasn't diabetic and it took us 14 hours. The second time, I went with a couple friends who were afraid of heights and I had been diabetic for four months. That one took us 16 hours. The third time, last year, I was a master of my sugars and climbing with two master hikers. It took us 10 hours.
This year? As usual I'll just be happy to make it up and back alive.