hiking with parents

Now that he's 63, my dad hikes a bit slower than he did at, say, 43. He used to lead the family, blazing ahead and calling himself Lord Baltimore, the fearless explorer. I don't know why he was Lord Baltimore, seeing as we aren't from there, but he did have a song that went along with his hiking name. It's hard to dispute someone when they have a song.

The Lord Baltimore told me on this trip that I've earned the right to lead the way on hikes. He told me I'd passed my apprenticeship, which I can only assume was the years of hiking behind him and putting up with the song he sang about himself.

I should come up with a name for myself now that I'm the leader. Perhaps the Lady Charlotte, another East Coast town we aren't from.

Even without an official hiking name, I laid down rules on this trip: no complaining and no drawing attention to yourself.

My dad needs both of these rules because otherwise, he'll spend the hike taking in exaggerated breaths and then announcing, bullhorn-style, “What a feat! To do this at 63!”

I'm going to start carrying a list of people who've done the Ironman past age 63. Really, a list of anyone who's done a 5k would be enough, and I'll pull out my list when he breaks the rules.