I've been in Ashville NC area traveling for work for the past week. It was the typical long days and late nights of meetings but I was able to sneak away for two runs. It was freezing on the first day and my motivation and energy were low. Add to that, I didn't know where to go and all options pointed up.
I finally got out and started up - hoping to find some trails and enjoy the mountains. Up is hard work and my legs and lungs were hating it. However, as I climbed I started to be flooded with memories from when I was a kid hiking with my family. I grew up in Japan and our trails were pretty much dirt with occasional huge rocks. My older brothers and I would run like crazy pretending to be on motorcycles and launching off the rocks. We called it "Jumping Motocycles".
Well, I was climbing so I only grunted as I tried to get up the rocks but those thoughts really helped get me up the hill. On the way down, the fun started and I started to play again. I gingerly launched (more like a slight hop) off a rock and then I couldn't stop myself. I didn't make motorcycle noises but I wish I had.
I ran for an hour and had a great time. Yesterday I ran for another 1:40 and it felt like a short jog. I had a great time. I wonder why running and biking don't feel the same at home? I wish they did.
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