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.
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.