Fitness is that elusive dream you forget just as soon as you remember it. I’ve often taken it for granted, forgotten its existence, its deviousness, while effortlessly prancing up mountain tops and step-machining myself into early onset Alzheimer’s.
Something inevitably happens that whacks me off my pedestal. Like a truck and the inevitable broken pelvis. Or heels and a flight of stairs. Or love. And when I come up for air again, ready to return to my mountain, I find my muscles and lungs working as well as a deflated dog toy.
Travel does it too, but I don’t mind being a slobbery tooth-marked tennis ball if it means seeing Kilimanjaro or getting lost in the Louvre for a week.
Knowing, now, how quick I am to take fitness for granted, I have dedicated myself to the mountain through this blog. If the weeks slip by without posts it’s likely I’ve fallen in love or simply fallen. In either case, please slap me across my sagging bottom (no, no, not really) and back to reality. Because there is little as challenging as building muscles where muscles fear to tread.
Of course, there’s more to trailrunning and hiking than fitness. There’s the peace it brings, the joy of being in nature, the better understanding, the community, and the pride.
In the name of staying on track, of seeking new trails, and remaining mindful of it all, here is a look at our recent early morning run from the bottom cable station to Devil’s Peak. (There’s nothing like a closed cable car to push you further to than planned.)