Disappointment Valley

Disappointment Valley.

I'm leaving for Yosemite in a few days. Last week, exactly a week before we leave, I found out that my trip there would be nothing like what I had expected, trained for, and planned. I would not be hiking Half Dome with everybody else. I'd have to do something much more important to the people planning the whole shebang, but painfully less important to me.

I'm not a big "looking out for number one" type of person. In fact, for the most part, I'm annoyingly the opposite and too much of a pleaser. I think this stems from a solid mixture of genuine concern for the well-being of others and genuine concern for what they think of me. But just this once! I just wanted to do it! Half Dome!

I gradually got over the disappointment of not being able to climb Half Dome. I figured it would be nice to duck up there with the sweet husband one weekend and do it together, but I know that he wouldn't be able to do the 18 mile approach in one day; we'd have to take the shorter route. Every time I try to drag him along one of my sounded-like-a-good-idea-at-the-time long distance treks, he usually has a near-death experience or just absolutely hates me as the estimated finishing time begins to double. The man takes his time. The man does not take well to being rushed. And me? I'm a complete spaz and can't handle being slow very much. Sure, it's always more fun having these adventures with Erik, so I usually deal with the consequences. Near-death experiences, however, ought to be avoided.

Enter Sharon.

Sharon came into my life about 8 months ago. She is a very, very fast runner and has done a couple of Ironmans and Boston marathons. However, she is also sick and completely addicted to exercise. So much so, that she would run 2 minutes-per-mile slower than her normal pace just to run with someone else. This works out very well for me. I run as fast as I possibly can, for as long as I possibly can, and she skips along next to me breathing like I do when I'm lying down, casually mentioning how she also ran that morning. We hike together every weekend and often a few times in the week, as well. We tack on a run every so often, too. Sharon definitely meets my need for speed, and it's also completely non-competitive. If I were exercising with someone my own pace, I'd constantly be fixated on whether or not the other person would get faster, better, stronger, and no longer want to run with me. Sharon is already those things, and she still wants to run with me. It's like finally being able to unclench my psyche after 15 years of serious group/partner running. It totally doesn't matter how I perform, just that I'm doing it. Sharon is maybe 10 years older than me, but has the energy of a toddler who never needs a nap and only eats energy gels.

"What time is the leader meeting on Friday?" Sharon asked, referring to the free-day we have in Yosemite before the leadership meeting that afternoon.
"2 pm." I actually didn't say any bad words during this conversation, but the "Fucking 2 pm" interjection has become such a fixture in my communication with Sharon.


We arrive at Yosemite Thursday afternoon, and have most of the day on Friday to ourselves. If you're a fundraising participant, you have the whole freaking day. I knew what Sharon was thinking.

"We can do it. Can someone else go to the meeting for us?" she asked.
"By 2 pm?! Aren't they allowing everyone else 12-14 hours to do it on Saturday?"

I think we might still try it, though. We would have to wake up at 3 am, and we might need to run some of the flatter parts after the climb out of the valley. I would also need to make sure nobody hated us for ditching the rest of the team on the free day. Either way, Sharon has my back. Every time I tell the other team members that we're mostly kidding about sneaking off and doing Half Dome on our free day, Sharon pipes in. "No we're not!"

And I'm scared. I have to say, I was doing a very good job of repressing my fears about the Famed Cable Climb at the top of the Hike Dome trail. I was actually scared out of my mind. I hear all of these horror stories about people panicking and absolutely freezing on the cables, unable to move up or down. Worse than perhaps your life hanging in the balance here above a few thousand feet of air as you're nestled between rickety wooden steps and rusty, creaky cables, is the fact that hundreds of park visitors are standing there waiting for you to get the fuck out of their way. Re-read paragraph 2 in this post. Rinse, repeat, condition.

The instant the coordinators told me I wouldn't be doing it and they're very sorry and what have you, I was experiencing a mix of emotions, mostly disappointment, anger, and annoyance. But somewhere under the surface, itching to get out, was this little sigh of relief that I wouldn't have to test myself, that I wouldn't have to know that I couldn't handle the cable climb. And now Sharon, as wonderful as she is (willing to do the 18 mile trek twice in 48 hours all for me) is going to make me face that.

Deep down inside, I'm looking for an easy way out. And it is really easy. There are many very credible excuses to keep me from attempting Half Dome, including but not limited to general concern for my career. But I have to say, after writing all of this shit out, I honestly don't think I can pass it up. Because I will know exactly why I'm passing it up. All I'll have to do is open my blog and weed through the thousands of recent posts (hah) and be absolutely certain that I'm just a chicken and a pushover.

It's test time, Julia. Eat a good breakfast. Sharpen your #2 pencils. At 3 in the morning as our headlamps cast a pretty LED glow across the Yosemite valley, it's on.