A MODERATELY DIFFICULT TRAIL, SOMEWHERE—What was supposed to be a refreshing morning hike quickly turned into a full-scale melodrama Saturday after local man Todd Reynolds, 44, dramatically collapsed onto a sunbaked rock just three minutes into the trail, breathlessly urging his friends to “go on without him.”
The hike, which Todd had enthusiastically planned in the group chat days earlier, started off with optimism. “He was all about ‘getting back into nature’ and ‘pushing himself,’” said longtime friend Mark Davidson. “Then we hit the first patch of uneven ground, and he started breathing like an overheated lawnmower.”
According to witnesses, Todd initially tried to mask his distress by taking “scenic pauses,” conveniently stopping to admire the same tree four times while wheezing into his already sweat-soaked plaid button-up. But when the group encountered a slight incline—described by one hiker as “basically the same slope as a mall parking lot”—Todd clutched his forehead, staggered to a rock, and sank onto it with the tragic grace of a Shakespearean hero.
“Go on… without me,” he gasped, wiping his forehead in slow motion like a man who had just finished trekking across the Sahara. “Save yourselves.”
Attempts to encourage Todd to continue were met with vague, poetic resistance. “This is where my journey ends,” he murmured, staring dramatically at a nearby dirt patch. “I was not made for such trials.” When offered water, he shook his head solemnly. “It is too late for me. Tell my family… tell them I fought bravely.”
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Efforts to remind Todd that he was neither dying nor even particularly inconvenienced by the terrain were unsuccessful. “Do not waste your strength on me,” he insisted, despite wasting an impressive amount of his own strength on dramatic hand gestures.
Reports indicate that Todd’s so-called “final resting place” was, in fact, a mere 200 feet from the trailhead. A passing group of elderly birdwatchers reportedly asked if he was “feeling alright, young man,” which, according to friends, might have been the final nail in his dignity’s coffin.
At press time, Todd had made a miraculous recovery upon realizing that the parking lot snack stand sold cold drinks, standing up so quickly that he briefly got lightheaded. “I have conquered the wilderness,” he declared, before immediately demanding someone drive him home.
