The misery of the great outdoors

Most of the enjoyment in running, or really any time spent in the unfiltered outdoors, comes once you are safe and sound once again within earshot of a humming refrigerator. Let’s not fool ourselves. There are a limited amount of lies you can tell about your distance/speed/fall/bear attack/etc while you are still outside. You need plenty of time to let those moments stew and simmer, reaching their full body and potential in your imagination, before you dare share them with your buddies. It also helps to let enough time pass before anyone can check your facts with your Strava feed.

There are, however, brief moments of joy which make you forget your sore legs, blistered feet, or disgruntled stomach. When you crest the ridge, or fly down the single track, and you experience the thrill of the trail once again. Life makes sense, or at least a small bit of it does, and you remember to breath. Those are beautiful moments, short and infrequent, but beautiful nonetheless.

So next time you head out the door, just remember that you may have one of those moments. But you probably won’t. And even if it is as miserable as normal, at least you’ll have your trusty refrigerator waiting for you once you crawl back in the door.

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