In many ways I am like my father: bony, monkey-toed, dorky. I looked like a freckled pale Gumby as a kid and… oh, wait! I still do. But I’m pretty sure that’s a Gray gene I also share with my old man. Last Saturday, our similarities caused a minor panic attack for me, though.
Despite my apparent inability to regulate my body’s temperature—or even effectively breathe for that matter—in Grenada’s humidity and heat, I opted for the running trail on Hash #745 last Saturday. Though initially fooled by the easy, even trail/paved road, I was brought to my senses when hash-reality collided with me in the form of a 60-degree one-thousand-foot incline. (Insert expletive.) My saving grace during the gasping, single file march (actually, more like a crawl because you’d better believe I was using all resources at my disposal to lurch forward, including extra limbs), was Elly, the cute little dog brought along by a couple friends. When Elly needed to stop for a drink, we all got to stop for a drink! Ah what a break will do when you’re on the brink of heat stroke and watering the jungle with your sweat!
|Taken from the middle of our ascent|