The Friday before G left, we came to the shocking realization that we had a completely free Saturday the next day. We started throwing around ideas for doing something momentous for his last New England wahoo weekend. After about 14 total years of living in the area, it seemed like there should be something to mark the end of the era. At some point G suggested "What about doing a zip line course?"
A quick google search and an online reservation later, we were booked for the next day before we could really stop and think about the implications of dangling from a wire high off of the ground. (Although we did have a 2+ hour drive to mull it over the next morning!)
We arrived in Lincoln, NH, got fitted for harnesses and instructed on hanging on for dear life, and headed up the mountain in an old WWII all terrain vehicle. The forested zipline course was made up of about 7 long swoops between high platforms at the tops of the trees. That first step is a nail biter but it was glorious to soar out over the breathtaking scenery--glorious and a wee bit terrifying. I was especially proud of M (usually the most timid amongst us) for jumping in with gusto. By the end the guide had most of us convinced to jump off backwards in the last, freefall zipline.
All except G, who dove off head first.
How's that for an apt metaphor for life?
I am about to break all of my personal rules about posting pictures of myself. This is an unflattering, hair-plastered, awkwardly posed photo of me (and, let's face it, the harness does me no favors in the fashion department) but we were so utterly thrilled and gleeful at the end that I love this, sweaty hair and all.
Throughout the course I kept repeating: We are intrepid; we carry on. (Name that movie.)
I think intrepid will be our new word around here this summer. I like how it feels.
