Strong gusts of cold wind rushed through the stubby grass as I hiked up to the hogback, taking in deep breaths to catch the scents of fall. The sun was high up in the blue sky as just a few fluffy clouds drifted east. To the west, a solid blanket of silvery-white clouds hung over the mountains, mostly blocked by the nearby foothills. “Perhaps”, I silently thought to myself, “It’ll finally snow!”

I took my time reaching the crest of the hogback, watching the wind make waves through the golden amber grasses, then began to follow it southward, in the shelter and shade of many gamble oaks and various pine trees. Since it was the end of October, the gamble oaks’ leaves were a fiery rust color, and numerous tiny acorns were scattered on the ground below them. I had to be careful as I hiked, because walking on acorns was a lot like walking on marbles. Every now and then, I’d slip. But, I always managed to catch myself and stay on my feet, and I stayed feet away from either edge of the hogback at all times just to be extra cautious. The last thing I wanted was to slip and fall a hundred feet or more into one of the valleys below. 

It was too windy for me to hear any birdsong or animals moving in the trees, but I knew I was still surrounded by wildlife. I was a little more skittish than usual. I didn’t (and don’t) like not being able to clearly hear my surroundings, especially during the time of the year when the bulls and bucks start to get feisty, bears are shoving 20,000 calories into their jaws every day so they can hibernate for the winter, and mountain cougars are a little more courageous than usual. 

Still, my need for being out-of-doors and highly active trumped my nervousness being in the wilderness alone on a windy day. My great uncle Courtney’s voice reminded me of all the ways I could save myself from danger as I continued along the narrowing hogback trail, listening to the wind hiss through the drying autumn foliage as followed the hogback trail higher and higher. Besides my nervousness, I was in heaven. Few people hiked that hogback, especially when the weather wasn’t 100% calm and clear. I was alone for that entire hike, with the wind drowning out the noise of traffic, which was refreshing to me beyond words. 

Soon, the trees began to clear up, and huge chalky rocks rose out of the fine sandy soil. In the sky high above, I noticed several hawks circling the skies. Sadly, I couldn’t quite identify what kind of hawks they were (though, I hoped they were red-tailed hawks, because those hawks are my favorite kind). 

From my place on the ridge, if I gazed over my right shoulder, I could see the busy main road heading into the valley passing by the Ken Caryl stables. A few playful horses cantered around the largest paddock, bucking and kicking each other, but not in a malicious way. In the outdoor arena, several English equestrians trotted their silky, well-groomed horses in a single-file line, practicing for an event of some sort. Not much else seemed to be happening over at the stables. Most of the horses were either grazing on hay, or just stood napping in their lean-tos with their heads low and a rear hoof folded on the ground. 

Glancing over my left shoulder, I peered into a wide-open, almost treeless valley sandwiched between two hogbacks (the hogback I was standing on, and the larger hogback that rose up from the eastern prairie, splitting the foothills from the plains). Nobody was on that trail as far as I could tell. However, I did see some odd movement about two hundred or so yards away from me, near the base of the eastern hogback. Whatever it was, it was impossible to tell without a scope of some sort, so I gave up trying to figure out what was out there (besides the wind). 

After spending several moments just observing the landscape from the clearing on the hogback, I decided to continue on my way, as there was a favorite place for me to sit down and watch people and animals in the valley. Carefully, I stepped up onto the rocks, making sure not to step on something that was loose, until I finally reached my favorite spot. I sat on one of my favorite chalky rock ledges (one that didn’t dangle over the ridge, because that’s too sketchy for me), crossed my legs, and pulled out a cold can of soda from my hoodie pocket. I also brought a small plastic bag of pretzels along, which I slowly snacked on while I sat perched on the rock, watching the cars on the valley road pass by far below me. 

While snacking, I let my mind wander without pausing. For the most part, I was in a blissful state, watching the world below me, until I suddenly remembered I had another doctor’s appointment I’d been dreading and putting off for a couple of years: my cardiology appointment. That thought pretty much ruined my day from that moment on, as all I could think about was the possibility of something being very wrong with my heart. I didn't want to know what was wrong (if anything), but it would be found out in a couple days regardless. I was especially worried about the possibility of needing another surgery. I never wanted (or want) to undergo something as horrendous and terrifying as an open-heart surgery again. Two is more than enough for one person!

I finished my snack, shoved everything back into my pocket, and spent the rest of my hike hyper-focusing on what my heart was doing, fearing the worst. Logically, I knew that if I could hike up the hogback and clamber up and over the rocks like a mountain goat, then I was probably just fine. Sure, I was a little cold, but that was just because the wind was cold, not because my heart was failing. Sadly, like always, logic didn’t defeat my anxiety, and I felt every heartbeat I had for pretty much the rest of the day. 

I felt it working hard (though not too hard) as I made my way down the hogback, charged through the exposed, grassy valley below (I was very cold at that point and wanted to get out of the wind ASAP), and jumped into my Xterra. I felt my heart rate decrease substantially as I sat and warmed up in my vehicle. My heart rate spiked when, on my way home, a huge muley buck leapt out of the ditch in front of me (thankfully, I was able to swerve and slow down to avoid him). Then, I felt my heart beat slow down to a resting pace shortly after I dodged the deer. I didn’t stop focusing on what my heart was doing until I finally succumbed to exhaustion at around three in the morning, scared of what my cardiologist might soon find.