Summa Cum Laude

I thought my sister attended California State University at Long Beach. I thought my girlfriend attended University of California, Berkeley. Apparently they both graduated “with highest praise” from Trash Talk U.

Here’s an excerpt from an email within hours of learning that we’d won the Mt. Whitney permit lottery:

Bev,
I heard that you are working up a “PLAN” to make sure you aren’t left behind.  Now that Mt. Whitney is looking like a reality, you better step up your game.  Hahahahaha!!
Sheryl

And the response:
Listen you over there in TN, where our CA weather decided to roost this winter, my plan (proper pronunciation: PLAAAAHHHHNNNNNN) has been derailed by awful weather this winter.  Without warning, the Bay Area became part of the Pacific Northwest and I found myself reading Internet articles such as, “Appropriate Footwear for Winter Deluge” and “Don’t Be S.A.D.: How To Successfully Use Artificial Light To Prevent Seasonal Affect Disorder And The Unnecessary Murder Of Those You Find Irritating.”

By the way, I’m not afraid of your challenge — I have faith in the PLAAAAAAAHHHHHHNNNNNN.  (Please note that I’m not morally opposed to pushing someone off the side of the mountain to make sure I’m not last.)

Take that, you Tennessee Trash Talker!

Lottery Winners

We hit the lottery! We get to spend the night in Lone Pine, CA; get up in the middle of the night; start hiking at 2am and ascend the Whitney Trail to the highest point in the Lower 48 States (14,494’) and back in one day!

And two members of this bunch are coming from Tennessee to do it. One of them is a blood relative. YES, INSANITY IS HEREDITARY. PERHAPS EVEN CONTAGIOUS.

There were a lot of crazy people that lost out on the lottery…
8,173  Total applications
4,138  Reservations Made (including OURS)
3,667  Applications Not Successful

We Need A Plan

My sister Sheryl, during a recent dinner out with us, mentioned that she had begun her training for Mt. Whitney, including ten miles on the treadmill at maximum incline. She also reported that Laura, her partner, has created a training plan that includes hikes in the Great Smoky Mountains ranging from 8 to 18 miles. These are not routine statements coming from my sister. I’ve become immune to endurance junkie friends saying things like “I’m going to run 50 miles on Sunday but I might be a little tired from my 100 mile bike ride on Saturday”. But when Sheryl casually mentions a torture treadmill session that would kill me and most of my Ironman finisher friends, a little voice in my head said “Oh, shit. We need a plan.”

Later, on the drive home, Bev recounted Sheryl’s treadmill session, declaring “I’m the youngest person in the group and I’m not about to get my ass kicked. WE NEED A PLAN”. PLAN was definitely uttered in uppercase letters and rolled off of the tongue as PLAHHHN. Yes, we need a PLAHHHN. As the oldest person in the group, the odds of getting MY ass kicked are pretty damn good. I’m all in favor of a PLAHHHN. The discussion quickly moved into PLAHHHN-ing mode.

“Do you have a weight workout program that you follow at the gym?”, Bev asked.

“Kind of. I do some core work, a little bit of legs, and some upper torso.” A lot of words for “no”.

“We need a PLAHHHN.”

“I agree. We need to make a training schedule with lots of hikes.” This was my brilliant contribution to the PLAHHHN.

“We should do a hike every weekend. But I also want to keep riding and running. We need an extra weekend day for our PLAHHHN.” Mimicking a phone held to her ear, Bev has an imaginary conversation with my boss. “Hello, Ruth? Greg needs every Monday or Friday off for our training PLAHHHN. Take your pick.”

Sweet. Too bad that part of the PLAHHHN won’t happen.

“I’m thinking of vehicle pulls. Yeh. Cars or trucks pulled with a rope.”

Excellent. We won’t get our asses kicked AND we’ll be able to “take” any parking spot, anywhere.