And it’s on, like Donkey Kong!

So, in the unlikely event you’re done reading the first, sort of explanatory blog, well, congrats, you’ve reached boss level. BTW, Jen hates video games, so don’t tell her that I made a video game reference on a blog that is ostensibly about her adventure. Also, her name is Jen, or Jennifer, but for the love of tiny baby jeebus, don’t spell it with two “n”s. I don’t know why this is important, but I have learnend that it is.  Like all good conversations, this one is likely to be steered towards BJJ. Hiking the Pacific Crest Trail is like Jiu Jitsu, honey….It takes a long time, and it can give you a sore neck. And often times you don’t smell so good. 

Speaking of, I sent Jen off yesterday morning, around 9. I can’t say what day, because my sister in law, Janet, is convinced that someone is going to read the blog, or my facebook posts, drive out to the middle of nowhere, hike multiple miles in difficult conditions, and attack my wife. I’d like to point out the number of murders on the PCT are, statistically speaking, lower than the number of alien abductions, also, lower than your chance of winning the Power Ball or having sex with whomever is on your freebie list. Yes, Ross Geller, I’m looking at you. 

Now, you might question my math, but here’s the proof. The number of people who have won the lottery is more than 0. People having sex with hot Italian actresses whom, while past their prime, are still more attractive than anybody reading, or writing, this blog. Or anybody on Friends. Seriously, I used to think Courtney Cox was pretty hot, but the neurosis……

Anyway, I digress, as I am wont to do. Also, then number of reported Alien abductions is also non-zero, and the fact that there is a lingering question of whether they happen or not still makes them more likely than getting murdered on the PCT. Not even crazy people think they got murdered on the PCT. 

So, Jen has a sore neck. I sent her off from the Mexican border wall, which frankly, looks like the Mexicans did pay for it, exactly the amount they think it’s worth. I walked with her for about a mile and a half, during which time she constantly fucked with her umbrella.

We had gotten up really early and driven in from San Diego, and it was hard to see her go, and well, frankly I don’t think I was at my best emotionally. I may have also had one more whiskey than I am accustomed too the night before, and well, the whole thing was stressful and sad, and she kept fucking with this umbrella. Also Bernardo tried to run off and join the fire department, who was a mile down the road carting some poor woman off who hurt her ankle and probably killed six months of planning in the first mile. 

 So I kissed her about an hour in, turned around, and headed back to the border with Mexico, while she began her walk towards the border with Canada. I headed back to San Diego, briefly thought about a nap, and instead opted to hit Jiu Jitsu.

I visited Barum BJJ, which is a stones throw, but a fifteen minute drive, from my Trailer Park Paradise. Seriously California, for a state that worships the car, you sure make it hard to drive one. Anyway, most of the good schools I’ve visited are in tucked away pockets, with no glitz and no glamour.

I’ve trained in a garage with a member of the Dirty Dozen, and in a broken down strip mall with a bunch of amazing Kauai players. My favorite is the BJJ Class taught by Daniel Thomas in a kung fu studio in Monterey. This is one of those places. Guys show up ten minutes late, the place is in an industrial park, nothing fancy. Ah, but the Jiu Jitsu. Solid, fundamentally sound, those little tweaks that you wished you had known five years ago. 

I just got my Purple Belt on Saturday, and this was my first time actually training since then.

I was nervous. Heavy is the waist that wears the purple, and I was visiting a town full of killers. This school is good, but man, they’re also really cool. They work on the theory that you get better if you’re not thinking murder or be murdered all the time. We all need a little mayhem and chaos, but I’m fifty, and well, I like to roll, and as much as I’m filled with thoughts of homicide, it’s nice to have really technical rolls with good people. And that’s what I got. Okay, enough BJJ for today, which is how I felt after rolling for ninety minutes. 

She had planned on a short day, about 5 miles, and I got a text saying that she had reached that point, at 12:30. She set up her tent, a light weight miracle made by Z-packs which cost more than a semester at a State College here, and tucked in. 

That lasted about 60 sweaty, bright minutes. She ate some lunch, packed up, and walked another five. Honestly, although she deviated from the don’t do too much plan, I’m proud of her. I’m also slightly, guiltily, experiencing some schadenfreude. She told me last night that the goddamn umbrella had made her neck hurt. Of course, so did mine, but I didn’t tell her that.