Day 153: The Hike From Hell (It Hurt So Good).

I'd only been friends with Samantha for a short time when she asked me if I wanted to go for a run with her. "Just a short one after school," she said. "Come over to my house and we'll go from there." At least that's close to what she said - after all, this was 27 years ago.

I'm not sure why I said yes. I mean, Samantha and I had less than nothing in common. She led the most popular clique in school, whereas I was a transplant who'd just arrived that year and knew no one. She'd done the whole "debutante-cotillion-homecoming queen" thing; I'd done the whole "smoke pot-start drinking-be kinda slutty" thing. She was an athlete with tremendous self-confidence; I was a slacker who thought I was the smartest person alive but loathed my body. Her boyfriend was the quarterback of the football team and a future Olympic skiier (Bill, to whom she's now married); my boyfriend was ... Oh yeah, I didn't have a boyfriend. Not unless you count that dorky guy with glasses - Craig - a mercifully brief affair that ended after we made out on his bedroom floor one day while he played "Come Sail Away" over and over again. I was not impressed (though I do still like that song).

Anyway, I said yes - something about Samantha rang true and sincere and important. I showed up at her house in the only pair of shorts I think I owned, and off we went. We only ran maybe two miles, but they were fast miles - after all, this chick ran indoor and outdoor track and sprinted like a goddamn greyhound.

I refused to admit I couldn't keep up ... so I kept up anyway. My lungs burned like they were on fire. My legs cramped. My head began to pound. I felt like I was going to throw up. I refused to stop because personal pride meant more to me than physical pain (those were the days, huh?). We finished the run and that was that. Samantha never knew a thing - not until many years later, when I told her the truth. She still likes to laugh about it.

Last week, history repeated itself when I not only agreed to but actually feigned excitement for a 6.5 mile hike into the Kauai rainforest.

If you know me, you're laughing. I can hardly bear to drive six and a half miles. And these weren't just any 6.5 miles. This was the Awaawapuhi Trail, which is described by trails.com as one that "descends to the edge of the sheer cliffs and razor-edged ridges of the Nualolo and Awaawapuhi Valleys. Rating: Difficult."

Shya, right. For me, more like "life-threatening."

The 3.25-mile hike in was mostly downhill, and it rained the entire time. It was so foggy we couldn't see any of the views, there was mud everywhere, it was chilly, and it was slippery. We didn't complain much, though - after all, it was an adventure. The highlight (on the way in) was when we came across a herd of wild mountain goats. It was eerie and unusual and extremely cool.

Once we reached our destination, it was still too foggy to see much. We decided to sit for a few minutes and rest anyway ... and then a miraculous thing happened. The fog suddenly lifted as if some Hawaiian god had blown it away, and there - a mere 2,000 feet below us - was the ocean. The drop was staggering ... and stunning.

We sat around admiring it for a while - I wanted to stay even longer, since I knew there was only one word to describe the walk back out: Up-fucking-hill.

Of course, I was the only one besides Tina who found this difficult ... and Tina's six. Samantha and Bill barely broke a sweat (not even when they took turns carrying Tina most of the way), Napoleon pretended to complain a little but then ran the last quarter mile just because he was excited, and Josephine, who's nine, grew tired of the wet and muddy conditions, but really didn't have much trouble with the distance or the terrrain.

This is what happens when you travel with the fittest family on the planet.

For 3.25 miles, it was 1979 all over again. Even though my legs were dying and my head hurt, I plodded stolidly along. For the first time in a long time, personal pride mattered more than physical pain (though I will admit to being just a little bit jealous of Tina's free ride. I know, I know - she's six).

When we finally got back to the car, I was so thrilled I almost kissed it (okay, so i did kiss it). And then, once my relief passed, I felt only one emotion other than exhaustion: pure satisfaction. Seriously, I haven't felt so victorious in a long time. The hike was long and hard and it hurt ... but I'd definitely do it all over again.

Just maybe not, you know, any time soon.

The view down the side of the trail as we hiked back out.


Samantha, last week in Maui. Unrelated to the hike, but since she's featured in this entry ...