September 25, 2017

Dark was about 20 minutes away.  My mind reeled at pace with my body, lurching down with each step and cursing the steepness of the grade.  My knees were avoiding/ignoring sharp pains at each and every step, exhaustion had fully set in, and in addition to the nagging feeling in my gut of needing a pit stop, the dogs were also barking.  Loud.  

Through a deepening mental fog, the dialogue in my head was sounding something like this: “This hill is lasting forever.  I know I’m on the the home stretch.  This is my hill!  I’ve climbed to this ridge at least ten times over the last 8 months. My legs might actually be jelly spurting out from feet of fire.  What is going on with me?!  I feel so off right now….”   The other vague nagging notion that was present through the layers was the fact that I had been trying to conceive for the past week, and as of 36 hours ago I was pretty sure it was happening and frankly I was slightly worried.  All of this swirled around in my head as I...

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