My Race of the Season

The race that shall  remain nameless.  I was only there because of friends.  Thank Goodness for friends.  I listened to their stories of this spectacular run when they raced it last year and was intrigued.  When they asked if anyone was interested in joining them this year I jumped at the chance.

Race day.

Out there in the mud and the hills and the distance I  felt part of it.  One hour into the race I saw the elderly skinny man with white hair slightly stooped over running gracefully up the rocks then down the rocks.  Steady, always steady.  Quiet.

I found out later his name is Dag Aabye.

 So it is true after all.  Sometimes you don't know why you are doing a race until it is over.


Turns out I run to catch a glimpse of spirit and grace.