Took a hike up
Bald Mountain in Townshend, VT. Some years ago, on an outing up Mt. Wantastiquet in Brattleboro, I'd met a guy also running up. I'd asked him how often he did it. Roughly once a week, he said. And a couple of times a week he ran up a place called Bald Mountain, much closer to where he lived.
I always meant to check it out, but never did until today. And with today being on the cool side, and very very windy, it seemed quite sensible to head out in the elements for a bit.
Worked my way up, just walking, thinking from time to time how impossible it would be to run it. Of course I was younger once, presumably stronger, but it still would have been a challenge. Today the challenge was trying to hear the birds over the roar of the wind and, at least for the first part, the beautiful tumbling stream the trail was following.
Got within sight of the top, 100 yards at most, when the phone rang. Gail. Hmm, wondered what was up. Answered.
"Happy Anniversary!"
Well, she got me this year. :-)
Neither one of us is too good on the memory front, so it's become a game, when June 9 rolls around, to see who remembers first. There are bragging rights for who remembers first, and also bragging rights for knowing but waiting, as long as you are the first to say, because the longer you wait, the more obvious it is that the other person doesn't have a clue.
So today she waited to about 11 am, and she could have waited all day, because it was clear I didn't have a clue.
Back to the hike, decent views from the top, also continuing strong winds, might try to claim it was good character building, except for that to be true the temperature really would have needed to be about 40 degrees colder. As it was, actually rather pleasant.
And then carefully jogged back down almost all the way, Charlie's advice playing over and over in my mind -- look where you are putting your feet. I did. No falls, not even any stumbles. :-)
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I brought along all my bike stuff, thinking I might take a modest ride, the appeal of new terrain offsetting the lack of appeal of the winds. It was only when I passed Brattleboro that I realized I had forgotten the bike....