on top of ol' smokey...

(...or, long's peak)

he and i have decided that our relationship is not for the faint of heart. we decided this today, on our descent from the summit of long's peak, a crazy huge mountain in estes park, that we climbed. and by climbed, i mean: we left my house at 10:30pm, arrived at the trailhead at 12:30am, and began our 6 hour ascent into the pitch black darkness, to the summit of the peak, to catch the sunrise. then, we took 5.5 hours to climb down, finally seeing the harrowing edges of rock we had just traversed upwards (in the dark, alone). we climbed through a forest, up a rocky dirt path, through a large boulder field, through the inlet to the backside of the mountain (the 'keyhole'), and then scaled the side of the back of the mountain, up a scree field, across a narrow, exposed rock edge, and then hand over hand up the 'home stretch' of rock. no big deal. 

from the bottom of the boulder field, looking up to the key hole.

the key hole. which is actually hard to find in the dark.

the backside

from the bottom of the scree field- the top is the little v in the right corner

this day, this hike, was the hardest thing i have ever done, both physically and mentally. and to note, i have run three marathons, so i'm really not just saying that. now, the climbing itself wasn't the hardest, it was more the intensity and the sheer longevity of pounding my feet over and over tiny little rocks, fitting them into crevices and walking over sharp, pointy edges. it was the ongoing, almost six hours of shock absorption on my feet, ankles and knees as we went down, down, down from the top to the bottom. it was the coldness of the wind, whipping over the key hole and down my wet back (thank you, leaking camelbak bladder). it was the desire to quit, and sincerely wanting to stop, and not being able to- knowing that no matter how long i rested, i would still have to come down. it was the constant awareness of my breathing and eating to ward off altitude sickness as we ascended 14,000+ feet into the air. it was the stumbling in the dark, moving from one marker to the next, having no idea what was ahead, or behind us. really, it was tough.

and, it was the best thing i've done in a long, long time. it was unreal- first, leaving my house in the middle of the night to go for a hike. watching a whole movie on his stereo console, chugging a diet dr. pepper and loading up on an unreal amount of hiking snacks to tide us over for 12 hours- that was out of the ordinary. hiking in the dark, with only a head lamp and his voice to guide me; my flashlight slipping out of my cold, numb hand and sliding down the sheer face of a rock, into the dark abyss: also a new, unknown yet realized fear. having hikers on their way up say 'good morning' to us after we'd been up and at 'em for over 10 hours, feeling like it was late afternoon.

but the accomplishment was amazing. reaching the bottom of the (seemingly) never-freakin-ending forest trail at the parking lot was a joyous occasion (we were so tired and ready to be done after 11+ hours of hiking that we ran down the last 10 minutes or so, down the declined, stepped, rocky forest trail with weak feet, knees, and quads.). hiking for hours, to seemingly nowhere for six hours, and then spending the next six hours climbing back down the triumphant path we'd already blazed was awesome. making it through the sheer physical and mental exhaustion with a smile, and my man at my side, sharing the same joy, was amazing.

best of all, really, though, was the simplest thing, the whole reason we went: the sunrise on the summit of the mountain. he and i were the first to summit the mountain today, so we were alone, literally on top of the world, as we watched the dawn break and the orange sun clear the horizon. we were shivering, cold and tired and nauseous, but it was breathtaking and beautiful. and for a moment, we were the only people in the whole existence of the world.

and i even made it home in time to take shower, nap, paint my nails and bake cookies before my office meeting at 6pm. what a day.