H and I had a wonderful run Saturday morning. It was a very hilly course, largely over grassy meadow, often uneven underfoot, with significant stretches of wooded single-track where passing (or being passed) was virtually impossible. In other words, a wonderful cross-country 5K.
The day was gorgeously green and briskly sunny, with a few hundred cheerful runners (it’s so pleasant not to be nervous at a race). The many spectators included sweet B, who shouted “Run! Run!” at the competitors when she wasn’t singing the ABC Song at the top of her voice. There was a really good bluegrass band at the start/finish, and a piper and a pair of fiddlers at strategic spots. There were also big plow horses (“Horsies!”, with a tug at the hair that is the equine sign).
The hills drove me to my knees, and I could feel them in my quads all day yesterday, but all in all, the event left me optimistic. And, of course, it was a run with H (who kindly stayed with me throughout), which automatically made it one of the year’s best days.
If I’m not in Scotland next year, I’ll be here again. Those hills require a little payback.