This is on point.

I'm Megna Chakrabardi.

Last weekend, I climbed a mountain with one of my kiddos, Mount Manadnock in the great

state of New Hampshire.

So we're not talking about high altitude, alpine mountaineering here.

We're like a very doable up and down day trip, but with some really fun rocky scrambles,

some sheer granite cliffs, and a view from the top that makes it worth the effort.

The lakes and forests and even the minuscule skyline of the city we left behind far away

on the far, far horizon.

That kind of view.

Anyway, this story is not about the climb up or the magnificent view from the top.

This is a story about the way down.

Because yours truly is just not in the same sinewy and live shape I was several decades

ago.

So on the way down, I had the constant company of my creaking joints and complaining

muscles along with the company of my seven year old son.

And he admitted that he too had a case of what we called spaghetti legs because he wasn't

feeling his strongest.

We'd done a lot of side trails on the way up and really taken our time.

So it'd been a long day.

On the way down, we were both feeling kind of whiny.

So we sat and surveyed the situation.

...