Alone, I Marvel

Stars still twinkling overhead will soon to be erased with the coming daylight. I had analyzed the ski runs, carved like wavy stripes down the mountain sides, the night before. Noticing the highest chairlift far above timberline, I had challenged myself to reach it for this morning's adventure.  After double knotting my worn out trail running shoes, I set out in the darkness without my faithful headlamp that forgot to jump in my suitcase when I packed for vacation.

A wet summer has low areas marshy and I soon am slogging along with dirty water squishing out of my holey shoes. Who cares? Being on the mountain, huffing pine scent and having my favorite playlist thumping in my ears is not too far from Utopia.  Without a map of the ski resort, I initially go by gut instinct knowing I have to skirt the base of the mountain before heading up. First light showcases the peak far above and I acquire target-lock and begin my ascent.

Since my healing Achilles tendon woke up all whiny, I give it my middle finger and set a goal of maintaining a quick, steady hike rather than a pretend trail run. The base area's moderate grade goes virtually unnoticed but by mid-mountain, it begins to get steep. While ascending a steep stretch, I turn to look out over the valley and soak in the sights.  The sleeping town's streets are bare of cars and parking lots are also naked. My racing heart and burning lungs are startled as my eyes glimpse movement detected far below. A trail runner, fliud and smooth, is steadily approaching the steep run I'm on and he or she is moving at a strong pace.

Power hiking further up, I glance back to see the runner closing the distance.  A little farther and I look back again to see a lady trotting up to me.

"Good morning. What is your name?" I ask, expecting to recognize a famous trail runner's name.

"Nikki. What's your's?" she replies with a huge smile and I tell her my name.

"You must be an elite trail competitor being able to literally run up this mountain," I state since she was running up something I did not think was humanly possible.

"No," she laughs, "but I try to get up here once a week," she adds while floating past me.

She keeps her incredible pace as I, very humbly, continue my plodding march.  Even in my pre-surgery, trail running shape, I seriously doubt I could have stayed beside Nikki. I snap a picture, not like some pervert oogling at a fit body in spandex, but in hopes of bringing justice to what she is physically and mentally doing because any brain in the right state of mind would override the passion and force the body to hike.

And, the steep gets steeper where I periodically look up and absolutely marvel. Nikki has quickly transformed into a distant tiny black dot. 

I look again, in disbelief, as she passes the chairlift like a tiny spider heading to the summit. 

I keep moving forward with burning lungs, shredded thighs and a pounding heart. And, that bastard little voice is screaming, "Good enough! Turn around, it's all downhill..."

"Hi again!  You're almost there!" jerks me out of my zombie walk. Didn't I just see her closing in on the summit and now she's already here?  Impossible! Anyhow, Nikki tosses out a few more words of encouragement as her feet dance down amongst the rocky slope. I know there must be another fool still up on the summit that I had mistaken for her.

Well, I pass the highest chairlift in north America that a sign brags is at 12,840' and I soon run out of terrain to head up.  While on the summit, I search for that second person who is playing tricks on me and... there isn't another crazy up here with us.

Nikki, who ever you are, GOOD FOR YOU!