I remember trying to hike up a mountain across from the family mountain home in Colorado and I almost got to the top.  It was good that I stop because it was tougher going down.  I never thought it would be but you end up have your body pull you down and that’s not you want.  I started out at 10,000 ft. altitude and I seem to remember the hike was up an 11.5 ft. mountain but however high it was, I should have been better prepared.  Remembering the start of the climb, it was fun and everyone was joking. We crossed the highway and valley floor only to start the trudge.  We were not walking on a flat surface but rather spewed rocks and boulders that one had to walk around while forever looking up.

I remember that I was gasping for air. Mind you, I lived in the flatlands; i.e. Pueblo then Greeley, Colorado and I might as well have been low like Portland.  Every time I think of those days, my heart gets beating faster and I keep sucking in air thinking I was back home.  I skied in those mountains and had a grand time.  I am proud to say I never was major hurt while I skied; my dad saw that I was careful skiing and using the robe tow, then various chair lifts.  Hiking was something else.  I didn’t know one needed to prepare for walking up a mountain.  I do now but my hindsight came much too late but my memories are good.