A few of you may remember my post a few months back about hiking Mt. Charleston while pregnant (and then going into labor less than 2 weeks later). If not, you can read it here. Anyways, with Jonathan's parents here (and me no longer pregnant), we decided to try to hike again. So I strapped on the Baby Bjorn, and off we went. Granted, Jonathan and Oskar (as well as his dad) still walked ten feet in front of me (and his mom). . .
. . . but at least this time it was because I was admiring the scenery and not because I was trying not to go into labor. So I was looking around, enjoying the sights when I saw it: the infamous log.
Yes, THE log. The stupid log in the middle of a steep climb (which again, doesn't look steep in this picture) that I had to sit on last time while huffing and puffing and agonizing over the fact that I was a fatty. I WOULD conquer you this time, hill, WITHOUT the help of that stupid log. It was my personal Everest.
And sure enough, I climbed it, no problems. It was quite anti-climatic. I expected more cheering when I got to the top, but I only had a sleepy boy hanging off the front of me who couldn't care less.
Yes, it was the second time I'd carried Matthew up the side of that mountain, but this time, I won. No huffing, puffing, or taking fat lady breaks. I made it. Maybe it's me, but I think it helped that I could look down and see this little face and not just my big old belly.
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