Running Alone in the Mountains

 

Strange things happen when we head out alone for a run into the mountains. Strange wonderful, strange awesome, and sometimes strange scary. There's a silent voice in the wilderness that we hear only when no one else is around, especially after the sky turns to stars. My weekly solo trail adventures become magical shamanistic initiations and personal vision quests, a special time where I trade the hurry-worry of the everyday world for eternal ecstasy. My ancestors spent perhaps tens of millions of years sniffing out the trails in all weather, wind in their faces, bearing witness to the mysterious secrets revealed with each step, each breath. Sometimes I think I may just keep going, and not look back.