origins

11 hours later -

Anticipation guides quick steps. Gear rocking back and forth as my hips move with each step, sloshing precious water in bottles strapped in for protection - early eager progression on the trail. The task, the goal – hours of arduous movement ahead, gladly accepted with fresh energy. As the hours tick, as the way is obscured, small personal tests first frustrate then conquer – move on – ignore the burn, the ache in your bones. Fight, plug, plot, ‘til the walls close. The shallow quick water rushes and cascades spilling from deep cold pools of refreshment. Polar opposite to the suffocating heat, the constricting cold grabs your lungs and expels the gasp. Moments of beauty, of giddiness, of relaxation before the pain and burn return. More aware of the light, the tests seem amplified – momentarily crushing. But time is more the hazard than the obstacles I scramble over, around, through or go under. Simple on surface, returning the way you came, small steps in this grand space.  To miss what little mark has been left would condem. The way barely revealed up the wall, snaking on crumbling, loose particles to the rim and the flat path back. Anticipation guides the quick stumbling steps on legs 11 hours tired.

CSL