This weekend, watching the young men and women compete in their high school cross country championships brought back many great memories. And certainly got the legs twitching, wanting to jump out there and join them.
I’m sure I could have held my own.
Today, flying through the forest, racing against only myself. Dodging branches, wondering if roots were hidden under the fresh carpet of fallen leaves, wondering if it’d all come to a crashing halt with a twisted ankle or busted knee.
But not spending too much time focusing on negative thoughts.
Relishing the burning of the lungs, the burning of the legs.
Reaching the next cross road, then turning to jog along it for a recovery stretch.
Not knowing when the next cross trail is going to appear, forcing a turn and bringing the searing lungs and legs back.
And it’s a shame that you can’t see the full sized copy of this image. The sharpness of dirt being thrown up around those feet is pretty amazing.