Nobody wants to read about my bruised toes from hiking too many miles with untrimmed nails, or the times I’ve busted my ass on snot-covered rocks, or the hours of sweating through nettle-filled underbrush that goes along with getting off the so-called beaten path in order to experience those transcendent moments.
But sometimes, “sometimes the bar, why, he eats you.”
The truth is, those moments when everything comes together, the ones which fill our memories and the ones we tell stories about, those moments are the exception rather than the rule.
Sometimes, you just get skunked.
Most of us, when that happens, find a way to wax philosophical about the whole thing.
Our power to rationalize is indeed formidable.
But mostly, it’s bullshit.
But first, a word from The Dude (insert obligatory language warning here):