I have really big calves.   If you look at the situation honestly, it isn’t anything really to be proud of.   Just genetics.  My dad has massive calves.  I’ve got a first cousin who also has thick meaty calves.   My sons both look like they work out from the knees down.

But then, being tall or green-eyed or strong-chinned is also genetic and folks are proud of that.   Since I’m none of those things, what I do have is great calves.  I used to pity those sticky bird-legged fellas the way I’m sure that tall, block-chinned men pity me.

Today, though, I can only imagine that the size of the muscle is proportional to the potential for pain when said muscle is abused far beyond what most intelligent couch-taters subject themselves to.     I kind-of wish for zucchini legs right now, or would if it guaranteed the dull ache of self-punishment would be lessened by appropriate degree.

On Friday, we parked my green Yota at 8:30 p.m. in a flood zone at the Little Missouri/Athens-Big Fork Junction Trailhead.   At the time, the only weather report we knew was that a bad storm system with tornadoes and hail was supposed to blow in at noon on Sunday.  26.8 miles later we finished the loop at 11:30 a.m. Sunday (today).

It was probably the best hike I’ve had with Kat in the seven years I’ve been hiking with him.  I’ve got a ton of pictures and even more stories that I can’t wait to start writing about.  Haven’t updated this blog in forever because, well, I just haven’t had a chance to get out on the trail.

Tonight, though, I’m going to smear IcyHot onto my calves, wrap some adhesive bandages around my toe-blisters, check myself for ticks, and get ready for work and school tomorrow.

More to come . . . and, remember, encouragement greatly lubricates the keyboard of inspiration.