Gut Rumbles
 

April 14, 2008

I'm gonna die

Originally published May 26, 2003

The soreness is setting in seriously now.

I am too old for this shit.

I may need help to get out of bed in the morning. The knife cut on my finger probably could use a couple of stitches, but my back is going to require a massage and massive amounts of Vicodin before I recover. I feel as if I have been stretched on a rack.

I went camping with two friends I've known since high school. One was my college roommate and the other was a long-time guitar-playing partner. We're in our early 50s now, after being friends for more than 30 years, and we still behave like teenagers when we get together and start drinking brown liquor in the woods. Doing that crazy shit hurts a lot worse now than it once did.

I really enjoyed the trip, but it may be the last one I ever take. That pack is heavier than I remember it being, and the trail is a lot steeper, too. I get tired sooner than I used to. And when I get sore, I stay sore for days anymore.

If I ever do that again, I'll hire a helicopter pilot to ferry me in and out. Fuck that hiking.

I am not a teenager anymore.

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