Some friends have come from Zurich-hard working types who go to the gym and eat their vegetables. They think a hike sounds fun. "It's so beautiful here!!" "We are BIG hikers!"
Inevitably they remember they are dealing with Thomas, and they start to backtrack. "I was just in the hospital"; or full panicked retreat: "I'm not going anywhere with your husband."
Unfortunately I am no good cop to Thomas' bad: I am the prisoner who has been gnawing on her chicken bone in the gulag for years, waiting for company; like a lonely spider in her web.
Get your big boy pants on honey: I am not doing this alone.
We bark orders immediately after the dessert is served: coffee in the morning at ten sharp at the Arlberg; water is unnecessary, we will be back quickly; wear flip flops for all we care; lunch is when we say it is; go home now and sleep.
We are so happy you came.....!!!!!!!
In fairness, we do provide gummi bears. A word to the wise for all of you: eat the damn gummi bears. Do not tell me you don't eat candy, or you prefer salty things. Yes, yes we all enjoy potato chips. We are not children.
But when one is faced with the hell that is a long up hill walk in altitude, the only hope is sugar. At the lowest point (not altitude wise, but emotionally) on the half marathon, Thomas rode his bicycle in a hail storm high in the hills to hand me a coke. I am not making this up. One half a coke was all it took for me to take off -yodeling to the finish line.
Anyway, enough about nutrition...
We have F with us-he loathes hikes, but like all children is better at it than we are. He takes off on his spindly legs, gummi bears in pocket-I stay for exactly five minutes of chit chat before I remember that I want this over with-I rush after F, and T stays back for a while with these people who are wondering what exactly is the matter. Is there a bear chasing us? what is the hurry? Also, did you mention a shorter version? because I was recently hospitalized?...
Luckily for them we had promised F a short outing and it was...the weather changed and went from hot and sunny to absolutely freezing. Now T and F are indoors playing tennis, and I am writing to you my pretty bloggers. I really do have the most beautiful readership..not to brag.
Where was I? I have incredible news. No really. K makes an iced coffee dessert that is soooo good. I have tried for years to get the recipe. I told Luis he would get 50 euros if he could steal it. Ida snuck Katia's cook book out for me. Then last night I just said: Katia. I need this.
I have three months to live.
And I have it!!! Lock up your husbands ladies...they will be coming home with me after a taste of this. Ok I'll give you a teaser: it involves ice cream, liquid cream and espresso. Also one slightly poisonous mushroom from south of the alps. But I've said too much....
I had a genuine runner's high-Alpine version yesterday. These are rare for me because I am just not that hot of a runner; plus I'm lazy. Anyway It occurred to me that I never, ever have moments of euphoria on a run at home. Or anywhere else for that matter; it is a miracle that only happens here.
The sun was out, I was tearing down a slight hill listening to a song from college days, a song that could make anyone run faster (the song Laid by James). I was so happy and energetic, that I began to practice my hurdles-imaginary ones, (which I believe are the best kind-my form is perfect on those.)
So picture this crazy woman leaping and whooping alone down the dirt road, past her cows (Hello Ladies!!!) past the church steeple far below, through the forest, over the wooden bridge over the water fall, away from anything that hurts, towards everything that comforts-towards the end of the run, and the beginning of lunch. Towards a shower and a book and cream in her coffee. Towards people who love her, warts and all.
xx
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| Me and my girls. Filter is used to express the hell that walking can be. |
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