A few months ago you told me you were tired of walking around the neighborhood. You said it was boring, and that you and Eileen were going to start getting out on trails. I have to say, initially, I was a little nervous about this. Looking back, I'm not sure why. You've now tackled Buck Gully via the long route, the steep Bobcat trail, and now the full 2+ mile, 400' climb to Coastal Peak Park from the fire station.
Recently, after one of your hikes, you told me how beautiful the mountains were. That the recent storm had left them covered in snow. It's really hard to get up and out there so early in the morning, you said, but all you have to do is think about how good you feel when you finish, and that overcomes any doubt.
You recently sent me a picture of the trailhead at Buck Gully before sunrise. You guys were about to begin your hike. Most would look at this and say, what's the big deal? Not me. Understanding why someone would take a random picture of a dark trailhead before sunrise requires a special connection, a kindred.
Sometimes I wonder if I'm too old to keep doing this running thing, and if I should just turn my attention to more age appropriate activities, like golf, or tennis, or woodworking. Then I remember how you used to let me explore the hills and canyons around our home as a child. I can still remember those canyons like yesterday, and the pollywogs, and the lizards and the hawks over my head. Thank you for letting me loose back then. I don't think I would've done well in a cage.
Happy birthday, my kindred spirit.