In the realm of getting lost, there's not much more intimidating than losing your way in the downtown area of an old city in the middle of a pedestrian zone (save driving down a bike path following nifarious google directions - clearly the pinacle of my getting lost adventures), except for losing your way in a maze of trails in the woods finding yourself at the bottom of a hill only to look up and see a wooden sign telling you that you just came from the direction in which you should have been heading. This is only going to occur, of course, when the sky decides to open up and release a flood of rain on your head, and your legs want to cry because you just finished running these hilly trails for the past 45 minutes and heading up the trail is the last thing on your list of "want to do's." This was my last workout of my challenge though, and I needed to complete an hour of cardio, which meant I was not going to stop. So, I plowed on just praying I'd find a "sign" at the crossroads telling me which way to go.
When I got to the intersection, I started to panic. It went at least five different ways. Not two or four, because that would be too simple. The sign I had followed down the hill still seemed to be telling me that I had in fact gone the right way the first time, but since I knew this was wrong, I stood there for a minute stunned. These are the worst moments to doubt yourself. Then again, you are not me, and my gut has a strong tendancy to lead me in the completely wrong direction. My moral compass might face north on most occasions, but my internal compass leads me astray each and every time. Everything always looks the same to me, especially in a forest. I am NOT the person you want to get lost with, and the Army would probably toss me to the wolves after I had failed the navigational test for the fiftieth time.
This is what the rest of my year will probably look like. Now that my challenge is FINALLY over, I plan on doing a lot more trail running, which means I'll be lost more than finding my way, and Big R will stop questioning why I tend to run the same routes all the time when he has received the fifth panic phone call from me as I'm lost in the woods crying for someone to show me the way home. I'm really not THAT bad, but I'm sure there are times the hubby must think I am. Just creates more stories to share with you.
I made it home, clearly, and I think I have that trail run all figured out now ("think" being the operative word here). I finished my hour long cardio session (that was unnecessarily extended by nearly 15 minutes) to end my 12-week fitness challenge - YES - and what better way to end it than to meet the family on the last 100 meters of my run. Big R planned their dog walk so they would purposefully meet up with me at the end up my run. As soon as little r saw me he ran to me so fast he lost his shoes no less than three times. It's enough to make your heart melt - I love it :)
p.s. I promise to bring you my final results soon!