Breakfast IS the most important meal of the day. Sometimes.

I was eager this morning to set out on the Cape Final Trail at the North Rim of Grand Canyon. “Have some breakfast first,” I told myself. But I got caught up in other preparations and… I was about a quarter mile along the trail when I remembered I hadn’t eaten. And I hadn’t consumed much the day before. I should have returned to the Rolling Steel Tent and at least made some eggs. But I was fixated on my hiking goal. And I didn’t want to re-climb the hill I had just slogged up. “If I don’t eat I’ll burn off more of the flab I’ve accumulated. Right?”

After the first mile it became obvious the weakness I felt was more than just being out of shape. I was stopping every few hundred yards to rest. My legs were getting shaky. There was some dizziness.

Not too many years ago, when my philosophy was to avoid exertion, I would have thrown in the towel and turned around, lecturing myself on the way back about the folly of exercise. But now a louder voice was telling me to keep going, to not wimp out. When did I become one of those Press On Regardless types?

The crew that built the trail seemed to have thoughtfully placed downed trees at intervals just right for fools like me to sit on and recover. Or sort of recover.

I made it all the way to Point Final. I didn’t go out to the very tip because my balance and footing were not good by then. But I sat and sat and sat nearby, enjoying the view, congratulating my dubious determination, trying to feel somewhat stable again.

On the way back I realized what I was feeling was most likely hypoglycemia. That’s some serious stuff. I took it extra easy, stopping more often and resting longer. I thought about asking passing hikers if they had some kind of snack they could spare, but my embarrassment stopped me. I should have brought something with me, but, like I said, I started out with other things on my mind. Besides, it was only a four-mile hike. It wouldn’t take long. It ended up taking five hours.

That hill at the beginning was now my friend. It was downhill to the van. Once there I downed two big chocolate cookies and collapsed on the bed. I had made it. I hadn’t died. I didn’t need to be rescued. I had been very stupid. I made a sandwich once I was able. Then napped some more. And thought about my mistakes.