I’ve been roaming around most of the day staring up at the mountains around me every chance I get and marveling at the fact that I just ran through them to get to this place.
It wasn’t easy. There were several periods where I struggled, mostly uphill. Periods during which I questioned what I was doing and why I was there. Thinking how I really don’t enjoy running. Deciding that when it was over I’d (A) never come back, and (B) stop running altogether, maybe occasionally go hiking instead. I also decided to never do anything hard again. Ever.
It’s barely 24 hours since I stopped running. My body heats the space around me, afire from the effort put forth these past days, while a fever smolders deep inside. So deep I often forget about it. A crazy sickness that has me staring up at these mountains wanting to run back out there again.