I felt a pop in my hip as my right leg hit the ground with a lot of force. Clumsy me, I had tried to get out of my chair quickly and tripped over the mobile home sized box of Gold Fish I had left sitting on the floor. With my cat-like reflexes, I kept my balance and managed to avoid tripping. Unfortunately, I didn’t have cat-like joints, and I placed far more force on my hip joint than it was designed for according to the owner’s manual. I didn’t feel any pain, but I knew from the pop and knowing how hard I had landed that I might have an issue on my hands…er well..hip. But as I stated before, I’m clumsy, and I combine that superpower with what doctors have told me is a high pain tolerance. At any given time I generally have between 2-5 potential injuries, none of which ever really hurt that acutely, and I can usually only tell the bumps and bruises from the tears and fractures after 4-6 weeks of things kind of hurting for a bit. I logged that pop and new weakness in my hip in my mental inventory of potential injuries and moved on with my life, knowing that a genuine injury was bound to find a way to distinguish itself and make its mother proud.
Tag Archives: mountains
2019/11/02 – Ascending Brasstown Bald
I eased off my break and attempted to get to my gas pedal as quick as possible. I was on an incline and had to be sure I didn’t roll back too far, lest I roll into the vehicle behind me. I hoped that they noted the Florida license plate on my vehicle and allocated me a little extra space than they would usually provide. I needed it. I wasn’t sure how people managed this in the mountains. Do they keep one foot on the break and hit the gas with the other foot? I wasn’t sure. But I would have ample time to try out any method I could conceive of, for I was stuck in traffic roughly half a mile long leading up to Brasstown Bald, Georgia’s highest point. (I guess that would mean I was also stuck in Georgia’s highest traffic jam, for whatever that’s worth).
2019/11/02 – Exploring Amicalola Falls
My legs screamed in protest. My lungs strained, for Floridians are neither well versed in cold air or the concept of going uphill. My pack felt heavy. It didn’t just feel heavy. It was heavy. An obsessive planner, I made sure my pack was stocked with every lens, drink, snack, and backup camera I might need on a long foray out into the wilderness. Except I wasn’t going to the wilderness this morning, I was going to one of Georgia’s busiest state parks. My body shuddered at every step I took up the long stairway I had embarked upon. In my head, one phrase rang out repeatedly. Cloudland Canyon. Cloudland Canyon. Cloudland Canyon.
J. Parker Nature Stories 