Mist-er Monster

Some runs are a grind where every mile gets stuck in your brain and rattles around your body for whole lifetimes before finally seeping out the bottoms of your paws to be forced out one step at a time. Other miles get left behind without you even noticing, like a sock Mom drops on the way to the laundry room.

Some races you can’t wait to finish because of the relief when it’s all over. But sometimes it’s better to keep the mom-entum because if you stop you might never get started again.

A dark place

No one ever achieved enlightenment in the rain, so just like all the prophets before us, we would need to travel all the way to the desert to seek enlightenment.

Hashtag Throwback Thursday

There are some places that I can only take Mom on weekends, because if we go during the week we’ll be late to work. It’s not because the trails are really far away or anything. It's because I’m such a handsome dude that Mom just can’t resist taking my picture in the places that look especially good behind me.

Dingleberry

"This dingleberry is going down!" Mom growled, speeding up like we were racing a light at a crosswalk. Then she veered up the little slope of wild dirt that protected us from the Momposter's boogeybreath. I followed close behind her as we cut onto the trail just a leash-length in front of the Momposter.

Build a tunnel and get over it

Looking at it from up here I could see that most of My Hometown was really wild. The houses and stores of my life weren't in the center of anything, but only slotted into the cracks and flat places between the mountains and the ocean.

A pair of ducks

The trail's steepness had been shallow, but right below our toes the other side of the mountain disappeared into thin air. Other cracked half-peaks lined up in the near distance, and behind them the full variety pack of mountains drew a spikey line like the stock market against the sky.

Running with the Bear

"What an adorable running partner," said the lady.
"Aw, you're so nice to say so, but she's really only a 5," I said. 
"Thanks, I think so too," said the 5. 
"Ooooooh. She was talking to you," said the 10.

Robin Hood of the Wild West

Mom and I listened to stories about the real-life bandits and stagecoaches of the Old West. “Mom, we’ve been to a lot of these places!” I said, astonished. “Some of them were so small that their gas stations didn’t even have Perrier or string cheese! How could a place be famous and forgotten?”

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