Thursday, February 24, 2011

Men's Sufferage

The call came as a relief. The time was 6:28 and Jonathan was calling to tell me he didn't sleep well and was running late. I hadn't slept great either. It was taking me longer to sort my climbing gear than I expected. There was a lot to remember. Ice tools, crampons, harness, boots, climbing helmet, skis, poles, ski boots, Jelly Belly's and water--to name a few. I packed it all neatly into the grocery-getter and embarked on another adventurous day.

I'm not sure how he talked me into it. Jonathan has a way of convincing me to do things that I wouldn't normally pick to do on my day off work. Suffering in the cold for hours while belaying him up rotten ice is never what I envision myself doing on a free day. Don't get me wrong, I ALWAYS enjoy the suffering. That's part of why I ride my bike everywhere. So, he talked me into it last night. I think he probably slipped me a roofie or something. I consented, potentially un-willfully, and we made our journey out to Cougar Crag, where we always go to suffer when the weather is questionable. After skiing a mile and a half and then slogging through deep snow and manzanita up an endless hill, we reached our destination. My feet felt like beams of frozen steel. My hands were getting the screaming barfies every 15 minutes or so and spindrift kept spraying me in the face. I had a blast.

My ride back to my house took a long time. The forty pounds of gear felt heavier than when I left. I'd do it again in a heartbeat, though.

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