London, Paris, New York, MOAB

Let me tell you a story. This story is about a girl who never does anything physical besides patrol the center aisle in her English classroom, glaring down at students who dare to have the audacity to speak out of turn. This is a story about a girl who used to bike to her friend's house across town, but that was the extent of her biking experience. This is a story about a girl who decided to go with her husband and her friends down to Moab and bike Slickrock--said to be the hardest biking trail in Utah--classified as a black diamond. This is the story of a stupid girl....
Kati, her husband Jeff, Brian, and I all took a break and headed down to Moab for some fun (and some pain, as I will relate to you). The weather was beautiful, the company great, the food amazing (thanks Kati and Jeff for planning, procurring, and preparing our gourmet meals. I mean crepes with fruit and cheese blintz filling for breakfast? Clam sauce spaghetti? Fat juicy brauts? Are we even camping here?) and the scenery breathtaking. The biking, however, while fun, just about did me in.

Here we are on the Poison Spider trail. This trail starts off with a climb up to the top of the plateau. Halfway up the climb I was ready to turn around. With a dramatic and self-sacrificing look on my face I told the others to go on without me....which they did. I sat on a rock and contemplated what a tragic news story it would be when they found me dead of a heart attack. I'm serious. My left arm went numb, my chest felt like it was being squeezed by a vice, and I couldn't get enough air. I finally recovered, walked to the top of the hill and continued my journey. I did finally catchup to everyone else.

After our early morning biking jaunt, we went into arches to do some hiking. This is more up my alley, and despite getting us completely lost in the Fiery Furnace and being incredibly disappointed in myself (Dad--I'm so ashamed) we had a great time.

On Saturday we woke up early to get started on Slickrock. I had no idea what I was in for. I thought I would just do the practice route (about 1.5 miles) but I didn't want to do it alone, so I ended up tagging along with everyone else and doing the 12 mile loop. Bad idea. Slickrock is 90% straight up or straight down big sandstone hills. There was only about 10% that I could actually ride, everything else I had to walk. The uphill was always way too steep for my poor, atrophied legs, and the downhill was way to scary for my faint heart. The views were gorgeous, when I was actually conscious enough to look at them. By the end I was at least half a mile behind everyone else, plodding along--watching the desert tortoises pass me up. Ok, not really, but if there had been any around, I wouldn't have been surprised. I began wondering why in the world I had even brought my bike---it just meant pushing about 30 pounds of extra weight up every hill, and then trying to keep that 30 pounds from pulling me down on my face in the other side. I did make it to the end though, singing in my head "some must push and some must pull" and "pioneer children sang as they walked and walked and walked and walked and walked......." I was just waiting for the angels to come push me up the last hill. Maybe they did, because for awhile I didn't think I'd make it.

On our last day we hiked up to Delicate Arch in the morning. I was surprisingly not as sore as I had expected. That is always a fun hike, no matter how many times I have done it.

Brian and Kati experimented with some yoga...or something...at Delicate Arch. I think Brian just liked the upside down view.

Brian and I are glad that we have such fun friends to hang out with, and I'm grateful that my friends and my husband make me do hard things. I'm also grateful that they just "go on without me" and don't complain about waiting at the end for me to catch up. Hurray for summer! I can't wait for more adventures!