We are just over four weeks away from starting our Kilimanjaro climb. I am so sick of getting out of bed every morning and reaching for my hiking boots or running shoes (in all honesty, this has been one of the worst weeks for getting out of bed and I haven't done it nearly as often as I should have).
Today I actually felt good on my run, but when I Google Mapped it later, the distance was just a smidge over 2 miles. Mike was certain we’d done 2.5 and I thought it would be at least 2.25.
We need to change up our hiking route. I’ve been doing the same route twice a week for over a month and I now hate it a little bit. It’s gotten boring. Adding weight to my pack has only made it harder, not more fun.
As I was plodding along this morning it occurred to me that I’ve been thinking of this Kili climb for almost a year. Those cold trail runs in Virginia in February and the humid runs along the river in Georgetown in July. In the back of my mind they were all supposed to be leading me up to this point.
Since the trip and the plane tickets are all paid for, I can’t stop now. And I don’t want to stop. I want to start climbing tomorrow, not in one month. I’m tired of reading inspirational articles and essays. I’m too anxious for my own experience, not someone else’s. I’m tired of thinking over the gear list. There’s so much stuff! Surely people successfully climbed mountains long before Gore-tex.
Part of me wants to lounge about in the mornings drinking coffee for an hour before I go to work rather than put on smelly shoes and sweat for an hour before work. But part of me is already wondering what the next goal will be, after Kili.