Summit versus childbirth...

Well, Dad (the blogger) suggested I write about my 14'er adventure and he's right. It's definitely a blog-worthy experience. He keeps irritatingly referring to it as a "peak" experience.

The big question on the early part of our ascent - when we were still jovial - was whether climbing a 14'er (a Colorado mountain of at least 14,000 feet) would be tougher than childbirth. Well, full disclosure, I had an epidural both times and thoroughly enjoyed the birth experience. (I know that makes me a freak.) Let me highlight here why sumitting La Plata Peak (considered a very easy peak) was infinitely more of a challenge.

1. There are no talus slopes in childbirth.

If you're not sure what a talus slope is, imagine a thousand medium sized, unstable, accursed boulders piled up so high you actually can't see the top. It's surmountable, but only just.

2. You don't usually hate your Dad during childbirth. (Your husband, maybe.)

If you're wierd like me, your Dad might be present during the birth of your child. But you don't viscerally hate your Dad at that moment. No, it's a triumphant, joyous, Lion-King thing. You proclaim "Dad! He's got your chin!" Not, "Exactly how much of your unfortunate genetic makeup did I inherit, you suicidal old fool?"

3. There is enough oxygen for a proper cry during childbirth.

Not so above 13,000 feet. Not enough oxygen to hyperventilate or have a panic attack either. I know. I tried. There's not even enough oxygen to eat your peanut candybar, though it is the only thing you've ingested since your 6am stop at the gas station for a reconstituted egg sandwich eight hours ago.

4. There are no false summits in childbirth.

It may take forever, but generally once the kid is crowning, you've made it to the final stretch. When the doctor says "three good strong pushes," he doesn't mean push hard three times and then whoaaa Nellie! There's another effing hour to go!

5. There is no lightning in childbirth.

Much less giant swords of lightning striking neighboring peaks while you - wretched fool that you are - are scurrying across a broad, 13,000 foot high ridge, nearly the tallest thing around. And when I say scurrying, I don't mean in an orderly, mouselike way. I mean flailing your puny human arms and legs for all you're worth, like a couple of hapless hobbits fleeing Mordor with a goddamn golden ring.

And now, a couple of ways that climbing a 14'er is strikingly similar to giving birth.

• Once you've done it, you enter a strangely exclusive club. You've crossed over. You belong.
• The only membership requirement is that you've done it... no one cares how gracefully (or pathetically).
• You can't entirely describe how difficult an endurance challenge it was when people ask.
• You wouldn't know quite how to tell someone to prepare (although bringing more than 20 ounces of water along is a good start).
• There may be both tears and hysteria.
• A good coach who believes in you is essential.
• Both feats may well end with you in the hospital.
• Only the ignorant dismiss it as a non-accomplishment.