My oldest son and his wife climbed Mt. Whitney over the weekend. That is a brutal twenty two miles trekked in eighteen hours with an elevation gain of over fourteen thousand feet. Eighty two thousand steps, if you want to know gritty details. Elevation sickness can show up at those heights, presenting as fatigue, dizziness, headache, shortness of breath. 

It is an impressive accomplishment, by any standards, when you brush up against three miles in the sky. Later this year they will descend into the Grand Canyon and next spring they will explore New Zealand. Fortunately for me they take a lot of pictures, and share the scenery with those of us still on the couch.

This is their third time to top a fourteener, and may not be their last. Having succeeded before, they are game for more. 

It is astonishing how motivated people can be to push themselves to their personal best. All of these endeavors take forethought, as in making a reservation months ahead, packing frugally and thoughtfully, everything from water to socks. 

An article I read a few days ago claims that surviving a formidable ordeal with someone bonds you together. At this rate, Lukas and Amy will be closer than peanut butter and jelly after a morning in a third grader's back pack.