I am married to a mountain man whose stuck in a big city. A couple times a year (yes, more than once), he has to go climb a mountain. No it's not hiking--it's serious climbing. On ice. And I don't see him for a week and sometimes don't even hear from him for about five days. Yes, my head spins. My heart pounds. And I pray around the clock for his safety. Once I get that phone call, all the butterflies flutter away. But it's his passion. He thrives on it. It's his escape from life. And he loves the challenge. I'm dreading the day when he says he's ready to take on the "Great One". Hopefully that day won't come. Anyway, I'm glad I don't have to deal with it for another six months.