It seems I’m finally able to run again pain free. Last week, the dogs (Beata and Copper, who is just hangin’ out with us for a bit) and I ran up Grandeur Peak. It was my second run of the year. My first, which was a race, set my recovery back a bit. Today, after my third, I feel that I may be able to add running back into my repertoire.
Running is the most love or hate sport that I know. Most of the people I know who call themselves runners have a type of mania. These people live and breathe running. They hang out in running stores, read running books, talk about running, and go crazy when they can’t run.
varmits on the summit
I’m not like that at all. I’ve run most of my life. There are occasions when I love it but often, especially running on pavement, where I don’t enjoy it at all. But I do like covering a lot of ground out in nature and this, more than anything, is why I run. I mountain bike for pretty much the same reason. On a bike I can cover more ground in a day but running allows me to get places where I can’t go in the bike. When I throw a little climbing into the mix I can cover a lot of somewhat technical terrain in very little time.
From my house I can head out and tick a ridge or handful of summits after a full day of work. In an hour or so I can get somewhere I’m very unlikely to see another person. It’s magic. It’s my church. The Tao of why I run. At least that’s how runners might describe it. For me, it’s just good fun.