Go.

I like to go until my lungs burn and my legs feel like wet logs.

I like to go until it’s dark out, until I’m tired enough that exhaustion trumps hunger.

I like to go until my fingers are numb, or covered in gobies, until my toes are blistered and   twisted.

I like to go day after day, until I run out of food, water, and I’m forced to return.

I like to go until the sun bleeds into the sky, until the night is as black as a closet, and the stars drift slowly overhead.

I like to go until I stumble through the night, as all humans did before the bulb.

I like to go until my fatigue is so deep it makes me sloppy and drunk, until my eyelids weigh a ton.  I like to go until I have to fight off sleep like it’s a rope thats trying to bind and smother me.

I like to go where there are no roads, no trails, no tracks, no bolts, no chalk.

I like to go until i can’t hear the roar of an engine, the wail of a siren, or the hum of electricity.

I like to go until my ass is sore from the saddle, until my feet are pounded by the trail.

I like to go until my hands are bleeding and weak, unable to grip or pinch, and then I’ll go some more.

I like to run, to bike, to trudge, to crawl, to climb, to scramble and summit.  I like to cling, to push and grit my teeth, I like to lower my head into the wind, to stand up against it.

I like the rushing feeling that comes with swinging my legs through the river.  Secretly I love the sharp scratches and tears of alder, scrub oak, cactus and thick fir as a bushwhack to the base of the wall.

 I like to go under my own power, that way there is no getting to the start.

People pass me wondering why I’d go so slow; everyone seems to want to go faster, or go more, but every time I travel that way, it seems I’ve never gone at all.

So I stick to my legs, they can always take me where I want to go, or sometimes, where I need to go, or should be, or at the least, they’ve taken me where I am.

I like to wake up surprised by where I am, having gone past all the good camp spots and stopped to make dinner far into the night.

Every time I go, I learn something new, about myself, or the world I live in, but every time I always feel the real answers lie a little bit further…

I think I’ll go again, my hands are healed and my legs are ready, but before I wander off I wondered this:

Would you like to go with me?