OK, so, I agreed to do this crazy thing called an Ultra-Hike with my mom in October. It’s for children’s oncology research charities (namely, CureSearch, which I adore because they do research on Ewing’s, which is what my brother has now twice struggled with—and will likely eventually take his life when it comes back a third time, which sadly is all but unavoidable).
But, here’s the thing: I’m in ehh-shape. I’ve gotten by on my metabolism (and good looks) my whole life. I work out very modestly (maybe 10 minutes a night, when I’m really on my shit).
Here’s the kicker: It’s a 30-f’ing-mile, one-day hike!! Let me repeat that: 30-god-damn-fucking miles in one day… Right now, I can’t do that on flat ground. When I did three days in the backcountry of Shenandoah, we did 7.5 miles the first day (though, it was with ~40-pound packs through mountain terrain and talus slopes), and my legs became Jello by noon the next day.
So, then, I have this summer to get into the best shape of my life. I also have to quit smoking. Look, I’ve been looking for a reason to do all of this. And, cancer can suck my dick—particularly children’s cancers. Further, who knows, maybe the extra few bucks I can churn up by doing this hike with my mom (who will undoubtedly kick my ass on the trail…she’s near 50 and does triathlons in her sleep) will be the money needed to find a cure for Ewing’s. If we can find a cure in the next five years, maybe my brother’s grave needn’t be dug yet.
If getting in shape and quitting smoking can accomplish any of that, hell, I’m down to make another trail my bitch.
Excuse the lack of eloquence—it’s a Monday morning.