The Truth about the Death March

In yesterday’s free post, I wrote about a death march. For paid subscribers, here’s the truth.

---

Those of you who know me may have already figured out that the blog about the death march experience organized by my so-called “friends” was hyperbolic and fanciful.

I want to come clean with my loyal subscribers who actually pay for the blog. For most of the hike, I was tired, sweaty, and parched, but never in immediate danger of dying.

I just felt like I was about to die, while the others marched ahead without difficulty. When you feel like you’re going to die, the least your friends can do is pretend to suffer. Look back at your fat friend. Say, “Gee, it’s so hot. We’d like to take a break.”

Trust me, I’d say yes. But the blog was really about facts of life revealed to me by 67, which I will now share with you, in the hopes that at least some of you will nod along.

1- We are really still in high school, all of us, no matter how old we are or how much experience we have acquired in life. On occasion, we still allow friends to talk us into undertaking inadvisable adventures against our better judgment. We’re teenagers.

2- Once we undertake inadvisable outings, we still refrain from admitting to friends that we over our heads. We soldier on rather than lose face. I found multiple excuses to stop: “Sorry, I’m taking photos.” Or, “Wow, these tropical plants are amazing!”

3- Friends in much better shape should consider whether the rest of us can keep up, but often they do not. Maybe they don’t want to tell us, “Hey, you’re too fat to go!”

4- My Midwestern upbringing does not allow me to complain openly or honestly. I would never actually admonish my friends for subjecting me to cruel torture.

5- When friends ask if I enjoyed the hike, I say, “Yes, of course!” I omit the rest of the sentence, which is something like, “… as much as I enjoy having a root canal.”

Enough truth. I have something else to tell you about the blog.

As the observant among you may have noticed, the blog has evolved (or devolved) from its lofty ambitions, those of an aspiring long-form writer publishing in short form. It has been cut from 2,000 words to 1,000, yet not one of you has complained about it.

Now that I know you liked my cutting the blog in half, perhaps I should cut it to a quarter. Maybe, for an extra fee, I should offer not to publish weekly, or at all? I use that approach to singing. I just murder a few notes, and people pay me to stop.

We are at 500 words, so I should stop. I dare anyone to say they prefer a longer blog.