Six weeks, one ridge line, no shortcuts
No one tells you that the first mile feels like nothing — that the weight of six weeks doesn't arrive until the second day, somewhere past the ridge you can still see the parking lot from.
Three days of rain taught me more about patience than the previous three decades. You stop checking the sky and start reading it instead.
It's the six weeks of small, unremarkable mornings that you end up missing — not the view, though the view was good too.