Most women feel this huge pressure to look good at all times regardless of what’s going on. This usually means we sacrifice comfort in the name of fashion. Two words: Screw that. What’s the point of suffering in the name of “looking good.” You can look great wearing something that doesn’t require pain. Tell someone who’s spent 11 straight days hiking that their shoes don’t make their legs look sexy and they are likely to tell you to “piss off.”
My eyes flash open. I roll over and check the clock. 15 minutest before my alarm goes off. My heart starts to race. Dread sets in. The thought of putting my foot down off the side of the bed to start another day at the office floods my soul with anxiety. It doesn’t matter how hard I wish, I simply cannot stop the passage of time. The inevitable will arrive. The second I put that foot down I vow to myself that today will be different. Today I would leave my career in pursuit of my passions.
I stand there, frozen, unable to speak, pinching a ledge of rock about a knuckle deep for dear life. We had bushwhacked our way up a Castlewood Canyon to hang out on some walls and get our climb on – however at that moment it was the last thing I could bring myself to do. Half way up a route where the holds went from gentle 5.9 jugs to a grueling 5.11a. finger killers. There I was, stuck in my sick fantasy on how was I going to fall to certain death. Tears started to trickle down my face.
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