It’s kind of like a second date. We took the same route as last weekend. And this time the veil of fog was gone.
A steady, small gale blew over the stretches of open landscape. Catching us from side, front or pushing us as we made the circle of the trail.
The sun had half-set: slipped under the hills, but had not yet touched the North sea. And the eastern slope we climbed – with its cover of delicate, wind-carved snow – blushed like a summer peach.
That promise kept me warm – enough.
No sign of the flu that has been creeping through my joints this week. And two-and-a-half, painless hours of slick-rock terrain proved my runner’s knee has healed.
I can finally begin the new year.
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