Page 44 of Girls Will Be Girls
I reach Willie with a big smile on my face, trying my best to hide how ridiculously tired I am. He raises one bushy eyebrow at me suspiciously, before jotting something down on his clipboard.
“You made it.” He says.
“Of course I made it.” I beam.
He nods at me before looking around. “D.C. not coming?”
It takes me a second. “Lou? No, why would he?” My tone is a little more clipped than I’d like. I don’t want to give away exactly how annoyed I am with him, because that would involve explaining why, and I cannot handle both the embarrassment and admitting how much I wanted what didn’t happen to happen.
Willie counts names on his sign-up sheet. “Thought you might’ve roped him into it.”
“I’m sure he’s still sound asleep.”
He looks up from the pages at me. “Doubt it.”
Before I can say anything, Willie gathers the group around him, making sure we all brought water, a flashlight, and are doused in insect repellent, as per his text instructions. When everyone nods, he circles his hand in a silent let’s go motion, and we all follow.
He’s so cool.
The walk starts off nice and easy as we meander into the trees and away from the water. The dusty path is flat and narrow, so we form a boring conga line. I unsurprisingly get relegated to the back as all the eager beavers race to be at the front.
I thought it would be more cute yoga pants and big tee kind of vibes, but there are people in actual trail hiking gear, with Camelbaks and walking boots. Someone even has those walking sticks they use in places like Finland that make them look like they’re skiing without the skis.
I think my Patagonia and Lululemons are giving away how much of a poser I really am.
The trees cluster closer together the further in we walk, and the path starts to rise slightly, making the trail even darker as we leave the minimal light of the town. People start to turn on their headlamps, and I realize Willie definitely meant real flashlights, not phone lights. Luckily, all the people in front of me light up the way beautifully.
At least I listened to the other instruction. I have my big steel water jug, and I also practically bathed in insect repellent, which, thank goodness, because there are mosquitoes everywhere.
As we turn the corner and I see the steep hill in front of us, my stomach drops. This is not some light hike just for fun — this is a goddamn sporting event. That is the most ridiculous hill I’ve ever seen. It’s not that it’s crazy high — although the trees hide exactly how far up it goes — but it’s so steep that it’s basically at a ninety-degree angle.
I wonder how much it would take to bribe the ski stick lady into letting me have them.
The ascent begins, and my thighs, my calves, my glutes, they’re already burning. I tell myself it’s only an hour and a half hike. It’s not gonna be that bad. We’ll be at the top before you know it, and no one has to know how deeply unfit I truly am.
I start to feel irrationally angry whenever I look up and see people laughing or talking like they’re on some light stroll. I hate feeling like everyone else is better than me at something, even if I have no interest in putting in the effort or training to be good at it. In three hours, I won’t care that I’m not some world-class hiker, but right now, I have never wanted anything more than for these people to think“Wow, she’s so good at this”.
It’s a sickness.
It probably has something to do with my obsessive need for people to like me, but it’s too early in the day to start unpacking that.
I’m doing my best to hide how out of breath I am, only taking in little puffs so that they can’t hear my wheezing up front. I’ve definitely fallen behind a little, but my legs are burning so bad it’s hard to find the strength to care. That just makes me even more irrationally angry, and I’m thinking up scenarios where someone from the group says to me:“You’re not very good athiking, are you?”or“You should do more cardio.”and then deciding what I’d say and how I’d prove that I am in fact the best at this, but there’s an elaborate reason why I’m at the back of the group fighting for my life right now.
People who say hiking is relaxing definitely don’t have the bat-shit crazy thoughts that I do, because in what world is it relaxing to have anxiety-ridden arguments in your head over things no one has or will ever say to you?
It’s times like these, when I’m on assignment and I feel like everyone is laughing at me for being terrible at this, that I dream about what life will be like when I finally earn my spot in trends. When I no longer have to pretend to like exercise and I can be genuinely excited about all my work, without having a gnawing sense ofI suck at this. I hate that feeling.
But as soon as this ends and we reach the top, once I’m no longer out of breath and my muscles stop burning with the fire of a thousand suns, the endorphins will take over and I’ll convince myself it was actually mildly fun and I’m being dramatic.
I know it wasn’t fun.
I know the fun part is being at the top, feeling accomplished, and then leisurely walking down.
But the way up was not fun.
It never is.
But I’ll convince myself I was overreacting all the same, and then feel guilty for being ungrateful for what I have.
