I’m officially an old man, sinking to a new LOW this morning. I had to use an umbrella as a makeshift cane to take the dogs out this morning as the sciatica made my left leg both painful and useless. I named it the “rain cane,” close relative of the “sky walker” that I used briefly after heart surgery. It’s these early morning hours that are the toughest, before I have a chance to let the ice pack soothe the fire that shoots down my nerve. Once I get over the first, miserable couple of hours, it will loosen up and I’ll go to the fitness center for 45-minutes on the stationary bicycle, 10-minutes on the rowing machine, and a mile walk on the treadmill with the support of the side rails. All of these exercises I can do without pain since my lower back is supported. But enough about lows – let’s focus on highs!

I grew up in flat old Northern Indiana, where the highest elevation was at the top of a tree. I was not a climber so two feet on level ground was always my comfort zone. I tried to avoid going to the top of the monkey bars at recess while other kids seemed to relish that hanging thrill. It’s probably good that I started out in “low country” and then eventually worked my way up the mountains.

In actuality, the highest point in my home state of Indiana is naturally named “Hoosier Hill,” elevation of 1,257 ft. Trains also like to run on flat surfaces and there were certainly plenty of those running through town with the Robert Young Yards in my backyard. It was where freight cars were sorted or “classified to make new trains according to destination.”  When first constructed in 1958, seven years after I was born, it was a 675-acre operation that had 109-tracks and could classify up to 3,500 cars a day. By the way, did I mention that we went to see Train and REO Speedwagon this week? That was a high, in fact you could smell it in the air. 

At one point in life, I moved just over the state line into Michigan where it got just a little hillier. In fact, it was about a six-hour drive to some great ski areas where I lost some of my fear of heights riding the lifts. However, I still held on with a death grip. Mt. Arvon in the Upper Peninsula is still Michigan’s highest point standing at 1,979 feet. It is located in the rugged backwoods of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. Mount Bohemia is nearby – still pretty flat. Michigan ski areas, like popular Boyne Mountain, are therefore distinguished by acres not vertical drop. 

Our next move was to Illinois, even flatter, and on the drive in from neighboring Indiana we could see forever, unless the cornstalk tassels got in the way. Charles Mound is the highest natural point in Illinois at 1,235 feet above sea level. We never did do any skiing in Illinois, but I’m sure there were some small resorts like in Indiana where it was 30-seconds down and an hour up after waiting in line. The lifts were still scary, even in low country. 

Then came Texas, known for the dusty prairies, but does boast Guadalupe Peak with a towering elevation of 8,751 feet – now we’re talking. We lived in the city of Austin; its highest point is Mount Bonnell that peaks at 785 feet 1 inch – in cowboy boots with heals. There is very little snow in Texas and when it rarely does, it’s like a demolition derby on the roadways. Obviously, no skiing in Texas, except on water.

We found that “Rocky Mountain High” on our way through Colorado while driving to our next home. Mount Elbert is the tallest at a whopping 14,438, the second highest in the contiguous states, although I never skied there.  I had already swooshed at Monarch, Breckenridge, Steamboat, Mount Hood, Arapahoe, and Keystone, but never actually lived in Colorado for more than a week at a time. It was onward to Oregon. 

Portland was our last West Coast stop. Nearby Mount Hood topped out at 11,239 feet, so I could ski there any winter day. On a clear day walking through our neighborhood, we could see five peaks. It was also easy to get high in the state since pot was legal. However, it rained all the time and had no warm beaches, so it was never our choice for retirement. 

At last, we hit our lowest level in life! Florida’s highest point is only 345 feet at the summit of Britton Hill near Lakewood. However, there are lots of highs by living in our resort-style neighborhood. Skiing, of course, is miles away, but I would still like to fulfil my “70+ Ski Club” badge. My last ski day was on April 3, 2018, and I ran the two-day “Hood to Coast” relay for the final time, August 25, 2017, almost 7 years to this day.  Both of these highs seemed far out of reach as I hobbled on my “rain cane” this morning. Hopefully, I’ll reach other highs, despite living in such a low State.