Hiking In The Scottish Highlands and Reflecting on Life
Not Halfway Up and Out of Breath
I’ve stopped. My legs feel like flimsy sheet metal. One wrong step or strong gust of wind and they could bend out of shape permanently. I’d be stuck on this path forever. Stuck. Going nowhere. Come on legs; I can hear the breeze gathering pace.
The mountain looked gentle and inviting from the Braes of Foss car park in the central Scottish Highlands, but now I’m not even halfway up, and I’m out of breath.
I guess that’s the way life goes sometimes. Optical illusions, unexpected difficulties and a struggle to shuffle one foot in front of another.
But here in Perthshire, Scotland, something greater than my discomfort is at play.
Sometime after the first mile, the incline kicks in; slowly but unrelentingly for the next two hours, it’s all uphill. Here I am, stopped to catch my breath and unfit on a mountain trail again. When will I learn to take regular exercise?
I’ve been stopping regularly to bend down and admire the vivid lilac heather or the delicate white mountain flowers which are pretty, but the truth is that I’m catching my breath.
I don’t think I’m fooling my boyfriend or puppy, but they play along and wait patiently for me to catch up. A…
