I saved my very favorite Arizona post for last. Before leaving, Allie and I made the decision that we could not leave Arizona without having climbed a mountain.
After we arrived, we spent the week staring out longingly at them while humming the Misty Mountain song (don't pretend that's not the first thing in your mind when you see mountains too). Finally, our second to last day, we picked a mountain, hopped in a cab and got ready for the trek up.
We were told it was a "strenuous" trail but we figured, we're runners, we can handle a hard trail. Mind you, the key word here is trail.
Soon, the trail turned to stairs.
Then the stairs disappeared and it was a full on mountain climb.
With shaking legs and out of breath bodies we made it to the top only to find the most spectacular of all the views.
When we got home, the first thing we noticed was how tan we had gotten. It was during our happy tan dance we realized we weren't in fact tan, just covered in dirt.
Ice cream healed our bruised egos.
We spent the evening hunkered down in beach chairs staring at the mountains and napping.
We woke up as twinkle lights were coming on, washed all the dirt/tan off of us, threw on our dancing shoes (Ann Taylor, in case you're wondering) and headed out to celebrate the way true champions do: with pizza.
See this pizza? A group of four at the table next to us split one the same size. We finished ours first.
Not saying we deserve a medal Grimaldi's but . . .
In case you couldn't tell from my ramblings, I loved Arizona. It was an amazing adventure thanks, mostly to my fantastic travel buddy.
I don't think my longing for the mountains will ever go away now, I guess I'll just need to come back and visit really soon.