Survived…but barely. Send electrolytes. 🥵🥾🌄

My legs are shaking, my clothes are soaked in sweat, and I'm so exhausted I want to cry. 
Yeah, buddy—I’m a wimp.

Heron took us straight up a dang mountain this afternoon. 
He said it was a hill—hill, my fat fanny! 
That was a blooming mountain.

I thought I'd die before we got off of it. 
Look, I'm 55, overweight, and a couch potato—plus it was 90° today.

AI says I climbed the equivalent of a 25-story building.

I thought going up was bad. 
Going down? 
I didn’t even have a pig path. 
It was rocky, full of roots, pencil-line thin, and straight freaking down. 
I was picking my way like I was tiptoeing across broken glass.

I appreciate Heron including us on his outings, but maybe he should remember his mother isn't like his girlfriend’s mother. 
I'm not EMT-trained to handle heavy stretchers, and I do not run marathons.

I mostly go because I want Badger to get out of the house—she doesn't get very many opportunities. 
She won't go places usually unless I go too.

We made it back just before 8 p.m. this time.

Before the great climb, this morning was Badger's doctor appointment. 
For the first time ever, she told me to stay in the waiting room, so I don't know what happened. 
She was unhappy when she popped back out, though.

We stopped at Aldi and Food City, and were home before noon—just barely.

I quickly mixed up a meatloaf, first time making it with turkey, and Badger tossed it in the oven.

Then I went and took a nap. 
Raven got home from work at 6 a.m., and of course Lady had to bark her head off. 
Knowing we had to leave at 9 a.m., I just went on—got out of bed, got ready to leave.

Of course, both Cowboy and I do not sleep through the night. 
I don't know if he keeps waking me up 'cause he has to go to the bathroom so much, or I'm waking him up because I start hurting and I flip-flop like a dying fish. 
Maybe we just wake each other up, but neither of us sleeps through the night.

He gets his feelings hurt if I suggest separate beds, but the lack of sleep is wearing me down.

My aching legs are saying, “Hey dummy, let's hobble to bed,” so we'll speed this up.

Dinner time came. Cowboy headed to work. Heron said, “Hey, y’all want to go back to Seven Islands?”—and here we are.

In pain and hobbling—and being a wuss.