broken back mountain

As I sit here, inhaling the deliciousness that is sweet potato fries, while Winnie snoozes on our tiny balcony and Anson peruses ESPN.com, I’m reminded of how sweet my simple little life is. Sure, I may feel a little restless sometimes, but I know what a lucky girl I am.

This past weekend’s glorious weather made me feel particularly lucky, although I think my throbbing calves and deep-fried shoulders would disagree. Yep, that’s right, I checked yet another one of my 2K9 New Year’s resolutions off my list: hike Old Rag (aka my own personal hell on Earth). Sure, this little Saturday stroll started off harmless enough, but after about an hour, I was ready to call it a day—too bad we were only about a third of the way up the mountain. Anson tried to keep me occupied by asking me questions about movies, my friends—hell, he even brought up the topic of Nicole Kidman and Keith Urban at one point. I must say, it was a good effort, but, unfortunately, it’s impossible to hear questions (let alone respond to them) when you’re gasping for every breath, with the sound of your own racing heartbeat pounding in your head.

And if walking straight up hill for 2 miles wasn’t enough, we were soon greeted by a 1-mile “rock scramble.” Sound fun? It sort of is…until you remember why your brothers lovingly refer to you as “skinny fat.” Yep, actually having muscle would definitely be helpful when trying to maneuver around, on top of, under and through a maze of ridiculously large boulders. Seriously, normal people don’t do these kinds of things.

I must say, though, when we reached the top, I was pretty happy. We’d conquered the hike, the view was really gorgeous and, most importantly, we had salt & vinegar Pringles and orange creamsicle soda to celebrate. Where do you find orange creamsicle soda, you ask? Why, at this quaint little country store, of course:

It was delish. Plus, it’s crammed with loads of “real sugar,” which is how my skinny-fat self rolls.

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