"Ok, ok. Let's hike."
It took a little friendly persuasion to finally convince Corey that he wanted to hike up a mountain Saturday.
There was actually a little more shouting and a little less give-in-edness in these conversations, but I thought I should keep it clean for the masses.
See, I love to hike. I love being outside. I love physical activity.
Corey loves sitting down to a cinnamon roll, watching horse racing, and a light walk each afternoon around the neighborhood.
Bless the dear for giving all of that up for one day.
But the dear almost got himself shoved down the side of the mountain.
"You don't understand, my legs are tired."
"You don't understand, my knee hurts."
No, you don't understand, Corey. We are climbing this danged thing.
"You have no sympathy for me. My knee hurts from hockey."
Before I start to sound like an insensitive jerk, I will mention here that his knee was able to carry him down the mountain at the pace of a slight jog.
Oliver was as happy as a pig in a blanket.
20 minutes later...
"Right after that hill I'm turning around."
15 minutes later...
"After we get to the top of that rock I'm turning around."
15 minutes from the summit...
"I can't do any more. I'm going back down now."
At the top...
"This was a pretty good hike. We should do it again sometime."
View of Lake George and random hikers who
probably didn't complain the entire time.We will most likely not do this again sometime.