Random thoughts of a trail running convert

Baden Powell trails

I might not be happy waking up at 6 am, but the hours on the trails are worth every minute. The trails and mountains are my sanctuary, where I can clear my head, and I only have to worry about the next step. It’s the place where my heart and soul are fed, where pace means very little and I hear only the sound of my breathing and the footsteps of other runners. Where the silence is deafening and comforting. It’s where I put my head down and climb. Where I learn to push the edges of my comfort zone, and try and ignore the little voice in my head that freaks out when I am running downhills – where I learn how to embrace descents.   Where I learn I am capable of so much more than I often  give myself credit for. Where it is okay to walk, to get your bearings and then keep going again. The trails are also a place where I learn gummy candy, coke and chips has never tasted so good.:)

Knee Knacker Holly Burn Chute photo 2

Where time stands still and flies at the same time.   And where at the end of every run I cannot wait to do it all over again (even when my hydration pack has leaked water all over my shorts, I have blisters, and I know walking will suck the next day).

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