I admit I was a bit frustrated with myself mid-morning Monday.

It has been well over 18 months since I did “serious hiking,” which for me involves gaining 1,500 or so feet to reach a lofty pass, a summit, or a mountain peak and then turn around in one day.

The gap in my hiking wasn’t by choice.

First my left leg swelled, setting on motion the discovery I had blood clots.

That led to blood thinners and a smart observation by my physician to let my body adjust before going gung-ho again with hiking in areas with a lot of sharp objects such as boulder fields.

Two months later, my cataracts got to the point it made driving at night dicey. The first available surgery was eight months out.

Given my day hikes often meant leaving before the crack of dawn and returning home as the sun goes down, such ventures weren’t a great idea.

Then there was the little detail if for some reason I was still hiking after dark, I’d do so solo with nothing but a headlamp with my vision clouded by cataracts.

Just as I got the clearance to go back to hiking in higher elevations once my cataract surgery incisions were considered golden, there was a change in my work schedule.

Add to the mix, I was working around an arthritis issue in my right hip that prompted me to adjust my exercise routine.

And although all the “vitals” — heart rate, blood pressure, etc. — were still better than good as confirmed by a physical, I was still a bit apprehensive Monday when a day off made it possible for me to tackle a hike that involved a little effort.

My choice was Sonora Peak.

I’ve tackled it eight times since I started hiking 16 years ago as a 54 year-old.

It’s my kind of hike. It takes 2.5 hours from Manteca to reach the trailhead off of Highway 108 just below Sonora Pass at 9,624 feet.

The 6.5-mile hike via St. Mary’s Pass at 10,100 feet to Sonora Peak at 11,464 feet has almost a 1,800 foot elevation gain.

I’ve hiked on it in snow, in spring, deep summer, and early fall.

And I’ve used it as a yardstick, if you will, in terms to rate what type of physical shape I was in.

My return to hiking was preceded by a month or so by doing more focused — and painful stretches — to address my hip.

I was ready and determined my usual foot issues I’ve dealt with since I was 32 — bunions that alarm doctors at first glance along with hammer toes and being anything but athletic — would be doable with a hip that has been known to make me look like I limp like Deputy Goode.

The Deputy Goode reference, for those not attuned to Manteca trivia, is to the late actor Dennis Weaver who spent his eighth grade year in Manteca. His big break was playing Marshal Dillion’s sidekick who had a limp in “Gunsmoke.”

So there I was heading to St. Mary’s Pass irked at myself for moving slower than the last time I did the hike, when I heard a man say “behind you.”

As I stepped aside and engaged in brief trail banter with a husband and wife team in their mid-70s I was asked if I had summited Sonora Peak before.

I answered I had but I was a bit frustrated because now I was doing it dealing with arthritis.

As they passed and I had stepped back on to the trail, the woman turned slightly and said, “remember, nice and steady does it every time.”

Eight words mentioned by a complete stranger in passing shifted my focus.

To be clear, even though I was a bit apprehensive, I was determined to summit with the promise to myself I would stop short and turn around if my body was telling me “what the hell are you doing.”

Long story, short I made to the summit for a ninth time.

Tackling three particular stretches of scree on the final part of the trail leading up and down from the summit was slow going but I didn’t end up doing a surprise body slam to the trail or the adjoining rocks.

And the fact it took me an hour longer than my fastest time to do the entire hike didn’t bother me.

It had a little to do with the aches and pains during — and after — the hike was arguably the slowest I’ve ever had during the ascent and decent of Sonora Peak.

But it has more to do with the fact I should be happy I’m doing something at 70 that I could not have done when I was 15. I get why they say youth is often wasted on the young.

And nice and steady are words to remember when you become too focused on the trees and fail to enjoy forests you pass through as you age.