Was that so bad?

We enjoy our nearby state park, which provides ample opportunity for enjoying nature, keeping fit, and learning about the history of the area. Or so we have heard. Ha! Of course we have actually been there a time or two ourselves.


There are hiking trails of varying difficulty, many of which allow hikers to challenge their skills, which is why we always stick to the paved, flat trails. We KNOW what would happen if we challenged our skills. Somewhere along the trail we would finally just give out, drop where we are, and become petrified matter. Boy Scout leaders would use us as grim examples: "Remember, boys, never let yourself get into such sad shape as THESE two did. They clearly were not fit enough to hike even the Turtle Trail."


On our last hike we set out on a trail along the river, a ranger having assured us that once we reached the swinging bridge over the river, there would be restrooms and a drinking fountain. And there were. He merely forgot to mention that they would be on the OTHER side of the bridge. A bridge that seemed to sway dangerously whenever the tiniest leaf fell on it.


The Hero started across confidently. I thought it wouldn't hurt to take a little more time to think about it.


Unfortunately peer pressure does not end at a certain age. That is the only reason I can give for finally stepping out onto the bridge even as the cautious, rational part of me was giving the less rational part of me dozens of reasons why I shouldn't. But that part decided we were not going to be left behind. 


"This bridge has been here a long time," the Hero called, trying to reassure me. Unfortunately he waited to say this until we were in the middle of the bridge, and I suddenly thought about what low construction standards they probably had back whenever it was built. The part of me that had not listened to caution and reason a few minutes before suddenly decided that yes, this WAS a dumb idea, and yes, we should go back. But by then it was too late.


Then my feet got into the debate going on in my head, and they planted themselves right there in the middle of the bridge, until once again peer pressure and fear of public embarrassment propelled me to the other side. 


"See, that wasn't so bad, was it?" said the Hero.


My answer gave him to believe that maybe that had not been the most sensitive thing to say.


After using the facilities there, it was time to go back across the bridge.


"You go ahead," I said to the Hero. "I'll just wait."


"Wait for what?"


"Oh, a boat, a taxi, amnesia about how bad it was coming over the first time -- whatever."


But of course I did not wait. To my surprise the return trip was not nearly so bad, though I did not admit this to the Hero.


Then began our grueling trip back another entire mile along that straight, paved, flat trail. It had been at least an hour or two since we had last had sustenance, not counting the water from the drinking fountain. This was an hour or two longer than we were used to going without any sustenance.


We met a few other intrepid explorers along the way, one of whom informed us, "There's a doe up ahead about 50 feet." In our famished state we fancied he said "doughnuts up ahead," and our response was perhaps more enthusiastic than a doe might be expected to elicit. One hundred feet later, we could see neither doe nor doughnuts, and we were hungrier than ever.


We had a mild celebration when we finally reached our car, where the Hero, noticeably, did NOT say, "Well, that wasn't too bad."


If we ever go back, doughnuts are going with us.