I’m not sure how they came up with the name of this trail. Personally, I’d call it Bad Ass Trail.

After waiting for over two hours for my son to return from his trip, off from the plane came a young man who looked a lot like my YaYa. The only problem was that he spoke kind of funny saying “bonsoir momma” and asking if I could cook him up some escargot. My mouth must have dropped open with the who does this kid think he is kind of look.

It turns out, that this boy actually was my YaYa. While vacationing in France, he’d learned a thing or two about good food and the finer ways of living. He says that lobster is really good, and that he likes veal, and lamb too.

As for chocolate croissants, he thinks he’ll take a break from them for a while — since he’s been eating them for breakfast for the past two weeks.

And as I heave-ho a suitcase that has gained considerably in weight, I wonder just how much weigh my young man has gained. He’ll still need to meet Pop Warner weight requirements. I’m afraid to look.

Take today for example. It’s Saturday morning and there are so many pulls to delay my long run. They pull at me constantly — until I am driven to take apart the pipes underneath my kitchen sink.

Not only does it feel like the world is resisting my heading out for a run, the world wants me to run as close to home as possible. You know, if I MUST do it. And I must.

While I was being pulled to run near home, I opted to drive to my favorite open space anyway. After lubing up my feet with a generous helping of unpetroleum jelly, I slipped on my fivefingers, and headed out for a 20 mile trail run.

So many thoughts were running through my mind. One in particular troubled me most. I fought back fear and replaced it with anger. Although temporary, it was a solution…of sorts. The run would do the rest of the needed healing. The increased effort required to run UPhill would aid greatly in the process.

Up, up, up…I ran. Until the thoughts in my mind were only of the trail ahead, and the trees all around. And although I did follow the path of most resistance, the end result was far better than I could have imagined.

With my phone ringing in the final mile of my 20 mile run, I got the opportunity to express my disappointment from a more neutral point. I also covered nearly 20 miles in my fivefingers — the farthest I’ve run in them yet.

If all that wasn’t enough, I also got invited to join my super-smart-and-very-good-looking friend on yet another fabulous adventure. And with this, I opted not for the path of most resistance but rather the path-of-most-affinity…

Climbing Half Dome was one of the more physically demanding things on my list. Certainly it makes sense to try to achieve this goal while I am healthy, strong, and most able to appreciate it. There was a man we saw heading out towards the dome that we guessed, based on the equipment on his back, was possibly hitting his bucket list toward the end of his life. The aura about him and his traveling partner seemed to suggest the same. That’s not how I wanted to do it. I’d rather the live-like-you-are-dying approach – then live a long, long time.

After breakfast, we loaded up our day packs and began our trek towards the dome. It was early (0630) and quite chilly. We quickly warmed up and began shedding the various layers of clothing. We traveled through varied views and terrain: winding, rocky, steep, stair-step, dense trees, and open panoramic views. We had it all.

And the people? They were great. Everyone seemed to be upbeat and friendly. You know how I like friendly people. In fact, we chatted up two really cool guys while we were refueling for the final stretch. We ended up getting invited to camp out with them in Tuolumne after we backpacked into the valley. It’s true. But that’s a whole other story.

As we hit the stair-step section, I was cautioned to fall towards the mountain if even I should lose my balance – less I lose life and limb literally. One glance back revealed an impressive view as well as a LONG fall. Fear began coursing through my body as I considered the descent and thoughts of the kids being parentless ran through my head. I paused for some deep breaths and a little self-talk. Then, after regaining my focus on only the task at hand, I resumed the climb.

It wasn’t long before I stood in front of the all-impressive cable section of the climb. After a few final reminders were given to me by my super-smart-and-very-good-looking travel companion, I donned my gloves and took hold of the famed cables.

Right away, I experienced someone freaking out ahead of me. I wanted to offer encouragement but knew that I needed to simply focus on getting myself up the cables. I switched from pulling on the two-cables to let them pass me and opted to just use one cable to pull myself up from that point onward.

Hand-over-hand I pulled my way upwards, periodically stopping to rest my arms and catch my breath. I also braved looking back at what lie behind me. WOW! Talk about impressive! Oh, AND beautiful!

In no time, I was making the final pulls on the cables. And there before my eyes was the top. I gave a high-five and walked towards the most amazing sight I’d ever seen (besides seeing my children being born).

As for going down, it wasn’t so bad. Although the cables were pretty busy by this point, the people were really nice and let us come down ahead of their ascent. And I didn’t fall off the mountain. Instead, I floated down on the crazy high I had from setting aside my fear of heights and living. It was more than just crossing off an item on the list; it was accomplishing a great feat. I’m thrilled to have had someone so wonderful help me get here and pretty darn proud of myself too.

This morning however, when little thing after little thing chipped away at my tolerance, I finally lost it. A back up in my kitchen sink, thanks to a teenager who isn’t used to having to scrape food scraps into the garbage rather than the disposal, remained after two treatments of Drano. I pulled on my yellow gloves, donned an apron and, with plunger in hand, I made a final attempt to free the blockage. No luck. I turned to my refrigerator only to find the door had been left ajar AGAIN. I groaned, pushed it shut, and prayed that the issues surrounding my less than cold food were from actions like this rather than the need for a new appliance. Then I turned to take in the rest of my house.

Junk mail and gum wrappers were strewn across the countertop, a dead rose sat in a vase of water on the dining room table, and the back to the computer keyboard’s battery compartment lay in the living room (far away from where the computer that refuses to recognize the keyboard sits). *sigh*

I went into the bathroom and reached from some toilet paper to blow my nose. There was none – of course. Just like there was none in MY bathroom this morning. [meltdown/tirade starts NOW] Storming around the house, I replaced the toilet paper which was basically missing from ALL three bathrooms. I picked up garbage and glasses, threw out the junk mail, pushed in chairs, and basically tried to return my house to a state in which I can function properly. I thought about how I’d cut the weekly house cleaning to save money – yet here I was barely able to keep up with clutter management. [feet are now stomping and doors begin slamming HERE]

I empty my backpack from that wonderful vacation, wishing I could go back there RIGHT NOW, throw the clothes into the washing machine, and prepare to leave the house. I’m out of coffee which means I won’t have my usual latte for the morning drive. I grab my water canteen and reach for my pitcher of filtered water. It’s missing. I look all around the counter, in the other rooms, and in the refrigerator. It’s nowhere to be found. I begin to lose it.

In walks BoBo. “Momma, what happened?” I start to cry and complain. He just hugs me as I sob. It’s all small stuff; I know this but I can’t help it. It’s hard going from paradise to long work days and a world that seems to be falling apart. My 18 year old son tells me not to worry, that he’ll “take care of it.” Damn. He’s trying to be such the man. And even though I wonder if it’s too much to ask of him, I tell him to wear gloves and show him where to look for the pipe blockage.

I leave for work – trying to remind myself that this ain’t nothing compared to all that I’ve been through. Still…it kinda sucks.