I just returned from a very fun Adirondack hike where I braved ice cliffs, forded rivers and suffered through odors no man should suffer (thanks in large part to the New Way Lunch in Queensbury.)  A quick side note on the New Way .  As the Japanese poet Kenji Miyazawa so eloquently shared, “We must embrace pain and burn it as fuel for our journey,” so to describes the New Way.  These delicious hot dogs with special “meat sauce” served as a heaven-like experience and yet hours later sent grown men to their knees as they were easily crippled by swollen colons and explosive gas that lingered throughout the weekend.  I digress.

Friday night, seven men took to the secluded town of Newcomb, New York to establish our base camp  where we’d plan our hike the next day.  When we all arrived, we quickly unloaded our gear and food and took to our sub-goal, drinking.  We each had a cold beverage or two, careful not to over indulge for fear we’d pay the price the next day.

The hike itself was challenging but fun.  There was great conversation to be had by all and the hike seemed to go by fairly fast.  I spent a good portion of the time over exaggerating about how difficult a child Ryan is and highlighting all of the negatives about parenthood.  Upon further reflection, I realize that I often highlight the negatives of parenthood, mainly because I think people find humor in the misery of others and because a lot of what Ryan does is both difficult and funny (e.g., projectile vomiting, waking up at 2am saying “uh oh”, etc.)  I also realized that I missed him terribly.

When we returned from the hike, we took to the cabin for some delicious chicken casserole courtesy of Dr. Dinolfo.  In the back of my mind was a promise I had made to the good Doctor on Friday afternoon where I said if we weren’t hiking again on Sunday I would get wasted.  We decided not to hike on Sunday.  Funny enough, as we sat around the table nursing our cold beers and playing cards, I looked around at the faces of my comrades and the familiar gleam of a person about to get annihilated was missing.  Instead, I saw the faces of men…old men, scared at the realization that they’re no longer young men who can tackle the Adirondack Mountains and the Lake Placid IPA in the same day.  Men who, disappointingly admitted they’d conquered the same challenging mountains they’d conquered a decade ago but at a much greater price.  The truth, as I saw it around 10:30 last night, was that I wasn’t going to get drunk. I didn’t have the energy.