Social Interactions.

As promised here's a recount of the first group hike I attended.

I RSVP'd for this hike, emboldened by the fact that I had attended a social meeting and it had not gone poorly. I however, forgot to factor in that the meeting was held in an establishment which I am familiar with, which I drove myself to, which (since it was a meeting after all) was structured and had an expected flow (per Roberts Rules of Order), had predetermined topics of conversation, and it was held during happy hour, so I could nurse my margarita to keep my nerves at bay. The hike had none of these things. No expected conversational order, no pre-chosen topics of discussion, it was not in a familiar location, I did not know these people (none of them had gone to the previous meeting), we were hiking hours out of town in an area I was not familiar with, we were going to carpool, and it most definitely was not happy hour. (The list of concerns I had is actually much longer than this, but I'll stop here for brevity's sake.) Yikes. Planning fail on my part.

Anyway...

We all met in the parking lot of a nearby establishment to figure out the carpool configurations, and I ended up totally socially overwhelmed and muttered that I was terrified of people and would just drive myself. Everyone was very kind and tried to persuade me to ride with other people and 'be social' but instead I just slunk away in the chaos and drove myself. It was painfully awkward and I strongly considered driving myself home to cry over my inability to interact with other people, but instead, struggled to push myself through the intense fight or flight reaction I was having and followed them down to Sahuarita. In truth, I spent most of my time talking to myself out loud, going over what I would say if anyone mentioned me driving on my own, and trying to justify/spin my own painful blend of awkward in a way that seemed more quirky and mystical than unsociable hermit. In the end, no one mentioned it and the trip worked out really well.

Everyone was super nice and friendly, and no one really seemed to notice how inadequate my small talk skills are. Because I stop so frequently to take pictures I separated myself from the group fairly early on. I was in the rear, but not dead last, there were two people behind me with a dog, which made me feel safe. I hiked on, happy as a clam, secure in the knowledge that if I fell off a cliff or got mauled by a bear SOMEONE would know. That was marvelous.

It was a difficult hike, five miles uphill to the summit, climbing about 4,000 feet. As usual, the first hour or so was the worst as I struggled to find my hiking legs and adjust to the elevation. I reached the summit just as the group was finishing their lunch. I was actually the last one to reach it as one of the two people behind me got altitude sickness, and the other lapped me in an effort to let the others know. He passed me maybe 10 minutes before I reached the top. They all congratulated me when I got there, and offered to stay while I ate, but I told them to go on ahead. I didn't want to hold anyone up, and I really wanted a few moments alone to marvel at my accomplishment. I added my name to the list in the box, took some pictures and began the march down.

For a while I was concerned that there was no one behind me. I practically ran the first two miles back down. I could feel all my toes blistering as they slammed into the front of my shoes, and all of my toenails were sore. Eventually though, I reached a point where I could see some of the others and I felt much better.

At some point I slipped and fell. It hurt. A lot. But not so desperately that I had to slow down. The trail for the first half of the descent is steep and covered in loose rock (it's actually steep the entire way, but the loose rock gives way to a dirt path about half way). I stepped on my ankle improperly a couple of times, and slipped a couple more. At some point I slid and hit my foot on a rock with such a force, and at such an impressively specific angle, that I felt the very large blister on my big toe rupture.

I THREW my shoe off. Ouch. I had a blister kit on me and took care of the blister in question, being careful not to look at the other blisters on my toes. Ignorance is bliss, you know. I crammed my foot back in my shoe and pressed onward. I caught up to the two people in front of me, which in my mind made up for my slow ascent. We caught up with a few more at the second saddle and paused for a minute. I had a snack and drank some of my coconut water/orange juice/protein powder mix. For the record, this is a miserable concoction, and yet is somehow more palatable than plain coconut water. Plus it staves off muscle cramps and exhaustion, or so I have convinced myself. (My second day at bikram yoga, coconut water, which I might add, was forcibly given to me by a very kind but pushy woman, revived me from what I was certain would have been total physical and emotional collapse. Now I am sure it cures all things, though it tastes like concentrated evil.) I did not sit for fear that I would find rest comforting and begin to realize how desperately my feet/hips/knees probably hurt. Instead I walked in small circles and did some standing stretches. I passed or caught up with almost everyone else on the way back down. The man who had been behind me in the beginning was actually the first to make it down.

Catching up with everyone was actually surprisingly important to me. I've never hike with other people before and had been concerned that
1. this hike may have been too difficult for me, since it was rated a 4 on a 1-5 scale of increasing difficulty. (it wasn't, it was actually just right).
and
2. that I would be unreasonably slow and hold everybody up.

Not being the last to finish on this, my first group hike eliminated both of these fears. I'm apparently slow on the way up, but that's mostly due to the fact that I stop to take pictures of EVERYTHING. I'm quick on the way down, because I'm so focused on not sliding down the mountain (I'm so much more sure footed going up than I am going down, lol.) that there isn't time for pictures. I'm focused like a laser beam on the path and my footing.

This hike also made me much less nervous about the upcoming R2R of the Grand Canyon, which was a huge relief. The hike back out, though twice as long, has only a slightly higher elevation. If I can do Mt. Wrightson, I know I can handle the Bright Angel Trail, and that's the leg I was worried about.

Today I got up and my legs were much less sore and noodle-y than expected, and much better than they had been after the Peralta hike. My knee/shin is badly bruised from my fall, and I have 8 blisters in total, all on my big toes and my littlest toes, in varying places (which really was to be expected since I knew going in that my current hiking shoes fit poorly). Over all though, even the blisters don't hurt much once taped up appropriately, and none of my toe nails turned black or fell off, so that's a win. I feel the hike mostly in my hips this time (the muscle, not the bones, they're not breaking on me, lol), instead of squarely in my calves like I did last time, which I think was due to the rather intense elevation change on this particular hike, and my leg work over the past week.

All in all, the hiking club is a success, I think. I'll post photos of the Mt. Wrightson trek tomorrow for you. For now, I'm going to clean the house...maybe. Ha!

*lovelovelove*