hike of heartache

pam dragged me out on a death march this morning. she pulled a bait and switch on me when she asked if i wanted to go for a 'walk'.

a walk is a casual stroll through pleasant terrain. this was not a walk. this was 2 hours of chest pain and chafing thighs.

we trekked somewhere between 6 and 9.4 miles. we didn't have a pedometer, nor were we looking at the mile markings on the path. i tried to look at the map later, but i couldn't remember how many roads we'd crossed. we were deeply engrossed in conversation.

it was a very healthy walk for more than physical reasons. this was the longest, most open-hearted talk my sister and i have had in ages. we talked about our husbands, our families, and ourselves. it was very cathartic and exhausting. we laughed, we cried, we sweated buckets.

at one point, we passed an abandoned bike covered in mud. there was an obvious trail down to the water. there were also muddy footprints along that trail. the footprints came out of the water, along the path for several yards, then off the path into the brush away from the water. at the exact point where the human footprints exited, muddy dogprints entered the pathway continuing in the same direction. coincidence or animagus?

when we returned home, it was hard for me to stop. the muscles in my legs were on auto-pilot and didn't want to respond to my pleas for rest.

louis asked us where we'd gone. when we told him we took the canal bike path, he asked, "oh, the path where they found all those girls murdered?"

WHA-?