Running Rocks

I love to run. I love running because it is a physically demanding act. I love running because it is a mentally demanding act. I love running because it pushes you beyond what you could ever do. I love running because of the way it squeezes your chest and burns your legs. I love running because it takes you outside and shows you places and things you have never seen before.

When I was running consistently in high school I would be outside for hours on end every single day, and it wasn’t until I stopped that I realized the immense importance that time outside had for me. I will admit that I may not have been “running like Thoreau” getting outside and moving has proven to maintain my sanity.

When I was at home over Thanksgiving break, I took the opportunity to go on a hike alone. I chose a trail that I knew well and it happens to be one that we would run every Friday morning during cross-country summer training.

One might think that I would be tired of this climb after three summers of submitting it weekly, but interestingly enough, I’m only met with fond memories when I step onto the trail.

Even though we had not yet done our class on “walking like Thoreau”, I don’t think he would’ve been discontented by the way I went about this adventure.

I took my time, relishing the fire that was lit in my unacclimated lungs. I paused to watch passing mountain blue jays and yielded the right of way to a pair of deer.

I’m always careful on hikes not to play music or disrupt the environment for others, the animals, or myself. I don’t directly remember, but I’m sure this was instilled in me, by my grandfather, who led expeditions through the mountains and his youth.

By the time I reach the summit, my legs and lungs were burning just as fiercely as when I would run up the mountain. I joined the company of a few others on the top of Horsetooth Rock and took in the familiar view.