The Shoreline

2

Forty minutes a day on the treadmill. Check.

Lift the heaviest of Carlton's stupid dumbbells you can, at least 15 times. Check.

Do the same amount on the chin-up bar. Just three times lower than Check, for the first two days anyway.

Keep it up for 10 days.

I finally had the chance to check that stupid one off.

I saw I wasn't as late as I thought I'd be to the meet-up. It was true I (once again) underestimated how long the coffeemaker took, and misplaced my running shoes, but by going over the limit by about 25 kilometres, I was three minutes early according to by car clock.

I noticed about a dozen other hikers with hauntingly larger backpacks at the ready, by the entrance to the forest. I didn't really get why; the Cobbler's Path was nine and a half kilometers to the edge and back, so unless they were hoping to get sore backs, I was sure they'd learn a little lesson from me.

I turned the lock in my red Toyota, and walked to the hikers, testing how it felt carrying 15 pounds. From offhand memory, I hadn't worn a heavy backpack since 12th grade. I thought maybe this would be nostalgic.

I was also more than ready.

"Okay, hikers!" said a tall, blonde lady who appeared out of nowhere. Surprisingly, her backpack was smaller than mine. Unsurprisingly, she had rock-solid-looking muscles and cleated shoes which were probably sharp enough to pierce my skin. "According to my job, I'm supposed to help you dreamers have a good enough time to recommend this place to your friends. And I intend to. To be a good instructor, however, I should also let you know this involves not just hours of walking but steep and curvy terrain. You will be fine if you both know that's what you're getting into and you keep focus."

I sunk a little into the wooden bench.

"I'm Denise, and I want you to know that though we're going as a full group of, let's see, 13, if you wish to go ahead of us, fine. But you all are required by the contract you signed to have walkie-talkies." She dumped a plastic bin full of them onto a picnic bench right by us. "All of these are in working order. We check them every morning, the most boring part of this job so I don't want to hear any groaning upon listening to these instructions. You just press the one red button on the side and if you must call for help, we will do so by tracking you. There is no excuse for it being lost, however, so everyone take one and put it in a part of your sacks that won't be damaged."

I did my best to calm myself - this Denise was only trying to prep me up. What Dad said was it was astronomically more gruelling than this to get his hunting license. I tested the other part of me that wanted to just hightail it back to my car, and found it tainted. Good thing I remembered my medication that morning. Desperately needed it.

Denise took us through some guidelines I already anticipated, and the fourteen of us hikers began our walk.

I tried not to look at my feet. Whenever I had to walk rather far, doing that usually made me wonder when the next rest stop would be. Instead, I took in the scenery. Trees everywhere. Not a hint of human exposure, apart from the miniature trail. That trail was also as organic as possible, made up of rocks, roots and soil instead of gravel or pavement or anything toxic. The forest smelled like a pine air freshener without the rough chemical atmosphere that encourages coughing. Taking a deep breath I found myself much more energized.

After about ten minutes, all our running shoes seemed to be in sync. Our steps conjoined, like fourteen bongo players. We were at a fair enough distance away from each other to have our own wide space bubble. I looked behind me and some of the other hikers looked in deep thought, but also trying like me to look at all the greenery. I felt maybe some of them wanted to start conversation but no one had the conviction to commence it. I decided to wait it out for a bit, worried the other hikers would reject my attempt and make me feel belittled for the rest of the walk.