Mountain Strain

It is January 2013, and I’m in a metal-floored Land Rover with my dad and his best friend from college, Paul. I am trying to stretch out my thighs after two 8-hour flights and wondering what it’s like for Paul and my father, who have 56-year-old legs instead of my own. A Tanzanian driver is taking us from the airport to a hotel in Arusha where we’ll meet seven other travelers and the guides who will take us (hopefully) to the top of Mount Kilimanjaro, the talles…