I took a bite of my sandwich. Ouch! My jaws hurt. They felt like they were caught in the middle of a fist-fight between Muhammad Ali and Mike Tyson. Ali was smashing the left side of my face and Tyson the right. And my legs felt like they had been run over by a fleet of Porsche 911s.
Granted, the Ali-Tyson fight part was unlikely to happen, and the Porsche part was not true either, but that could have happened. What is indisputable is that my jaws really hurt.
Hours before all this, I woke up without the aid of alarm clocks. It was nearly 5 AM. Refreshed after a peaceful nights sleep, I was feeling good enough to hike and looking forward to flexing my legs. But since I had been sick the last few weeks, I did not have too much time to plan a hike, so I decided to take on the familiar Mt. Diablo summit.
Since I live under Mt. Diablo’s shadow, it constantly nudges me and challenges me. Therefore, each year I have no choice but to climb it multiple times. Also, I like to climb it as early in the year as possible to “get the monkey off my back” for a few months at least. It’s some strange mental issue for me that psychologists would surely love to explore at my expense.