“Momma, come climb with me!”
“You go ahead, Sweetie. Momma’s not very good at climbing. I’ll stay here and take pictures of you.”
“I don’t want my picture taken and I want to climb with you.”
Okay, so it wasn’t really a mountain. Obviously Central Park doesn’t have mountains.
But that rocky hill looked like a mountain to me.
I’m clumsy, nearly 300 pounds, hadn’t worked out in months and was wearing flip flops.
Plus, I’m a Florida native. Elevation is a big deal for us.
(Well, except for my daughter who had already reached the top while I was still pondering if I should give it a try.)
I decided to just do it, despite all the reasons I couldn’t and shouldn’t. I’m constantly telling my kid not to sell herself short, so why would I do it to myself?
I slowly and cautiously found my footing while holding on to tree branches for balance. I was sweaty and out of breath when I reached the top, but I did it! My daughter was proud – and surprised I did it. “I didn’t think you’d do it! I knew you could, but I didn’t think you would.”
I didn’t think I could or would, so I surprised us both.
