I didn’t know that ziplining was on my bucket list until I tried it the other day at the Richmond Metro Zoo. My sister Laura was the instigator, inviting me to join her in researching the experience prior to bringing her grandchildren. We were about half an hour in before I was able to conclude that this had been a good idea. The warmup phase included, but was not limited to, the following thoughts:

• I wish I had brought a bottle of water. What if I keel over from dehydration?
• What if I have to go to the bathroom?
• I should have brought snacks. I may get low blood sugar and pass out before I get through the course.
• The young man said it will take two or three hours. How does my pace compare to the pace that was used to make that estimate?
• What if I succumb to exhaustion and have to be rescued?
• This could last until way past lunch. I hope I don’t get hangry and lose my mind.
• Sister Mary looks worn out already. I hope we haven’t killed her.
• That little pregnant goat in the pen below us has a belly bigger than the entire rest of her body. I’m glad her babies don’t have horns.

Will, the young man who is guiding (read babysitting) us is not laughing at my jokes. Either he has heard them all before or he is bored with babysitting. Probably both. Later when I see him raking up goat poop, I again hope that he finds his job fulfilling. The goats are cute, and it must be rewarding to look to their wellbeing? Maybe this is a side gig while he studies to be a wildlife biologist or something. Regardless, he is patient, knowledgeable and kind.

I stoically refrain from mentioning what a dear he is to take such good care of decrepit old women. Neither do I mention that I was a bit of a mountaineer in my younger days, and that I know all about reversing the carabiners.

After we struggle through various “challenges” (read American Ninja obstacle course) and short ziplines, our young guide explains that we are one fourth of the way through and it will get much more strenuous from here. Laura and I opt to forge ahead, while Mary and my brother-in-law decide to climb down and go through the zoo the old-fashioned way. Our young guide makes sure Mary drinks lots of water, and B-I-L gets her a straw hat from the car.

Meanwhile, Laura and I are getting into the big time. We sail from one post to the next, climb the ladders, and take off on the next line. We handle our carabiners, trolley apparati, and giant gloves like pros. Periodically, we see young Will following us doggedly, no doubt hoping neither of us breaks a hip. We fly over a lake, kangaroos, emus, hippos, lemurs, flamingos, two kinds of antelope, families with strollers, and old folks with fanny packs. We start showing off just a skosh. I feel myself an expert already in the “flat hand” technique of slowing down. I remember the trolley my father built for us when we were kids, and I think how much he would appreciate seeing us doing this. The cool breeze makes a mare’s nest of my hair.

Later on, a nearby McDonald’s drive-through provides milkshakes and fries, putting a nice coda on the experience. Thank you, sister Lou, for yet another adventure. You just never know until you try, do you?