Shyla and I were out for a bike ride early yesterday, greeting a sunny and chilly morning. The air at sunrise is now down around 40°F, telling us that winter cannot be stopped.
Knowing that more surgery-induced lay-offs are probably in my future, I decided to ignore the pain, and I climbed. I feel so free when I'm up high in the mountains that it is well worth it. (I also know from experience that pain doesn't mean I'm doing any additional permanent damage.)
The lake that we were seeking was below the furthest peaks in the next photo.
And, yes, Shyla swam. But, she swam only a tiny bit. She let me know that the water was nearly freezing after her first foray into the water.
On the way down, my spine pain escalated to the point that my eyes brimmed with tears at one point. I sat down on a rock feeling thoroughly sorry for myself, asking the unanswerable question of why a person who loves the mountains has such a terrible spine that visiting the mountains will someday be impossible. As I mulled over those dark thoughts, my sweet Shyla leaned solidly into me while licking my face with concern. She's a special one. I hugged her.
We watched the sun set on our valley.