During a medical conference in Lugano, Switzerland, a colleague remarked that I should visit Monte Bre, a quaint location with beautiful views of the entire lake and surrounding towns. He recommended a lovely family owned and operated restaurant to visit in the town of Bre (population, 300).
As the conference wound down for the day, I took off for the mountains. My hotel was located on the other side of town, so I didn’t have time to change my clothes. But, I had worn flats, so I figured I was ready to roll.
There were lots of steps heading away from the summit. A few times I stopped and took a look back, wondering if I was up for the challenge of climbing those stairs on my return. Each time I stopped, the New Zealand couple was further ahead of me. But I started to get a bit nervous. I hadn’t brought any water with me and it was warm; the dress I was wearing started to stick to me. And to top it off, I was warned that if you don’t catch the last funiculare at 6:30pm, you end up having to walk down the mountain – it was 5:30pm.
At this point, turning around sounded like a good idea – but something made me go just a bit further.
Steps too numerous to count. And with each one my calves burned just a bit more. I stopped once or twice to catch my breath. ‘Is there any oxygen on this here mountain?’ I thought. How very grateful I was to be in month 11 of transitioning to natural hair – otherwise every bit of relaxer would have been sweated out (some of y’all know what I'm talkin' about). When I finally reached the top, dress clinging to me, my legs and my lungs burned. But, I was there.
I made the 6:30pm funiculare. As I sat down on the wooden seats for the ride, my chest burned just a bit more – my activity-induced asthma flaring. And at that precise moment, sun rays burst forth from the clouds as if to say “Well done”.