Ain't No Mountain High Enough

The period of time from Friday afternoon through Saturday afternoon served as a lesson in peer pressure. And for one of my classmates, the lesson proved to be painful - and sweaty. And I learned that peer pressure isn't just for adolescents anymore.

For those of you who keep really close tabs on me, you know that I have been looking forward to my department's hiking adventure at Pilot Mountain, which was scheduled for Saturday morning. Who would have thought that the things that get me excited are the polar opposite of the things that get the majority of people excited? Friday afternoon, I learned that the Pilot Mountain trip was the LAST thing my classmates wanted to do on Saturday morning. From the sounds of things, NO ONE was going. Dare I cave to peer pressure?

As our enthusiastic prof passed her little notepad around the group, one-by-one, that little notepad was quickly cast to the next, to the next, to the next - no signatures. I stood firmly to my ground; even if I was the only one, I was still going. Bless her soul, one of my classmates penned her name on that little pad. Victory! Now, I could add my name with confidence! The notepad continued to the next, to the next, to the next. At least there would be two of us. Then, in a dramatic change of events, ANOTHER classmate added his name before the notepad reached the end of its line. This second classmate would soon regret that he folded to peer pressure.

To make a long story short: we ended up taking a 2.2 mile "strenuous" trail at Pilot Mountain, although none of us had really confessed much prowess in the hiking sector (besides my first classmate who signed up, her husband, and their dog, who appeared to hike regularly, according to their Camelbak water backpacks). Classmate #2... not so fortunate. He confessed last night (at my SECOND, free Dash game - man, I know the right people) that he threw away the t-shirt he had worn hiking when he got home. Let's be honest: if I threw away every sweaty piece of clothing, I'd be running naked as a jaybird 95% of the time. However, I understand the horrifying symbol that his grey t-shirt must have become after that hike.

Here we are after: (sans classmate who tossed his t-shirt afterward; he's our adept photog for this shot)

Wait, I'm not sure you can read that sign. Let's take a closer look:

My enthusiasm for this hike may have been based on the definition of "hike" in West Central Ohio, where any slight hill is hard to find. I remarked to a few of my fellow hikers that "hiking" in Ohio is much different from "hiking" in North Carolina. Lesson learned, but now I'm prepared for the next one!

Peace, love, and sweaty t-shirts--

Emily