My dad admitted that the trail we had just hiked was actually the hardest trail he knew of, and even super athletes were having a hard time with that trail. However, that also meant that I'm not exactly out of shape. I mean, to me I am, but compared to the average American today, I'm actually very fit. However, just because I'm fit doesn't mean there isn't room for improvement, and my dad's encouragement set a fire in my soul.

I realized it was still the morning. So, an hour later, my dad drove us to another hiking trail that was much easier, but also much higher in elevation. I was sore, but determined to continue until I collapsed. I'm not sure what got into me. I think I've just been sick and idle for so long, that I'm subconsciously craving extreme cardio like that. Endurocross and hunting are the extreme cardio with the adrenaline, but I think in order to feel truly satisfied sometimes, we have to endure that extreme cardio without the numbing and strengthening effects of adrenaline. 

The higher elevation meant colder temperatures, higher winds, and less oxygen, so I was struggling. Just because it was an easier trail, doesn't mean it felt that way after I had endured 2 hours of hell just an hour or so before. My dad was feeling it too, and we'd have to stop at the crests of the hills to sit down and catch our breaths, me especially. However, even though my legs were shaking by the time we were halfway back to the truck, and I was producing so much mucus from the cold that every breath sounded like a roar, I continued on almost without slowing down. People tend to underestimate themselves. I know I certainly have, yet something inside me just lit up this time, and I just decided that I had to figure out where my limit was, if I could push myself to it. In my mind, my limit is the moment all of my energy just leaves my body, such as what happened when I was playing paintball in 94 degree weather. 

I thought about the hunting films I've come to love. I thought about how fit one must be to carry a quarter of an elk on their back, and hike for 30 miles over mountains in three days to make it to a small airplane, which would be the plane that would get them to the actual airport, so they could go home with their game. I thought about the importance of extreme fitness, especially for someone like me. I thought about how good I'd feel if I just kept going. I thought about CF athletes I've found out about and have connected with, who push themselves even when they've puked multiple times and make the same chuffing and growling noises as me. I was close to puking. I used four bottles of water to keep my mouth clean and clear because I was salivating so badly. But I was determined to prove to myself and to my dad that I'm still very healthy and alive, because I am. CF doesn't determine my health and fitness. I do.