This past week was full of surprises and lessons. Last week, I talked about the little moments, and well, this week, I had plenty—each one making me stop and think.
Last Saturday, I decided to go on a hike with Sunny and our friends. Sunny is preparing for his trip to Everest Base Camp in April, where he and our son, Sahib, will be going with eight of our other friends. They’ve been training every week to build their endurance. This week, Sahib wasn’t able to join, so I decided to step in and take his place. Oh, little did I know…
I should have been suspicious when one of my friends excitedly announced in the group chat that I was coming and how happy she was. That should have been my first clue.
It was a cold day in New Jersey—snow and ice still covered the ground, and we knew a small flurry was expected in the afternoon. But these are committed hikers. Every Saturday at 7:30 AM, they leave their homes, drive 90 minutes to a trail, and hike for about four hours. That is… until this past week.
This was the trail to end all trails—I wish I had known that before I signed up for this adventure. So here I am, energized, in my snow boots, decked out in winter gear, with a backpack full of peanut butter sandwiches, protein shakes, and bars—feeling like I’m well-prepared. We all arrive at the meeting point, and that’s when I realize… I’m missing hiking poles.
To be fair, I did ask my Sunster (our son) before leaving if I needed them. His response?
“No, no, no, you don’t need them!”
Of course, he didn’t use them the entire trek. However, I needed them.
Luckily, one of our friends was kind enough to share one of his hiking poles with me, so at least I wasn’t completely doomed before we even started. Everyone was excited, energized, and full of coffee as we set off.
9:00 AM – We hit the trail.
Now, I love hiking and am pretty good at it. We hiked up Machu Picchu, and I had zero problems. In fact, I was right at the front of the group, one of the four ladies who made it to the top. So, a normal hike? Not a problem. However…
This week, the entire trail was covered in ice and snow. The rest of the group had been practicing for six weeks. This was my first time joining them. To say the trail was hard is an understatement.
It was almost nine miles of treacherous terrain—climbing up a rocky mountain to 3,000 feet and then coming back down, all while navigating ice and snow. I am not ashamed to admit that at times, I just sat on my butt and slid down the mountain—because it was easier than falling.
PTSD From Norway & Trekking With My Superhuman Sunster
I’ll be honest—I had some PTSD from our trip to Norway in December.
That time, I fell three days in a row:
Day 1: I hit my head so hard on the ice that if my kids weren’t watching, there would have been tears.
Day 2: We were skiing, and I chose to aim for the fence rather than go off the edge of a cliff.
Day 3: I was just praying to the gods that I’d make it out injury-free. Spoiler alert: I didn’t.
So, yes, I have trust issues when it comes to snow and ice.
Meanwhile, my Sunster is running ahead, making it look easy, wearing extra weight on his back AND a weighted vest to train for Everest. And here I am, carrying nothing.
For the first four miles, I was doing great, near the front of the pack. Usually, Sunny is home by 2:30 – 3:00 PM after his hikes, so when we hit 1:00 PM and weren’t even halfway through, I knew… something was up.
By then, I had already fallen twice and gotten back up quickly, but I knew my joints would be yelling at me later.
The Home Stretch (AKA: Why Did I Do This?!)
By lunchtime, we were ravenous, but the cold starts to seep into your bones if you stop for too long. No restrooms on this trek. While men have the luxury of nature, women… well, it’s harder.
Every time the kids said, “Only one more hill to go,” there was another one on the horizon.
And, of course, what goes up must come down—which was even more treacherous with ice and snow.
My Sunster held my hand to help me down the steep sections. Did I ask him to slow down? 100%. Was he holding my hand while racing along? Most of the time.
We didn’t finish the hike until 3:30 PM. That was 6.5 hours, almost 9 miles later.
The moment we hit pavement, my knee said, “What the heck did you just do?”
Even our friends admitted, “That was the hardest hike we’ve done to date.”
Great.
I waved farewell, slowly made my way to the car, and then…
Did I cry trying to get into the car? …Potentially.
On the drive home, my body shut down. We stopped to pick up my in-laws, and normally, I would get out to greet them. This time? Nope. There was no moving once I was in that car.
When we got home, my puppies excitedly ran to greet me. Could I bend down to pet them? Absolutely not.
I went for a massage, and the lady kept saying, “Too tight! Too tight!” because she couldn’t even bend my knee.
Let’s just say Aleve became my best friend.
So, What’s the Good, Bad, & Ugly?
The Good: I trekked nine miles with a group that’s been training for six weeks—while I just got over two rounds of antibiotics and stopped coughing literally one day before. Plus, despite my PTSD from Norway, I kept going. Two days later, I can talk about it with pride—I accomplished it.
The Bad: The soreness was real.
The Ugly: The immediate regret the moment I sat in the car.
Would I do it again this week? 100%—as long as my knee is moving, I’ll be trekking.
