All's Fells that Ends Well

There is something so incredibly...luscious about these taper weeks. This weekend was no different, with a happy 12-15 plotted and planned for.

After another admittedly lackluster week of running, with 5.5 or so with JRizzle on Thursday, and a solo 3 on Saturday, I was well-rested and ready to run come Sunday. And where better to do it than at the Fells? Who better to do it with than my better half?

And so it was after a nice rambling sleep-in and fruit-loaded breakfast, we found ourselves having put the pup to sleep in her crate, driving to the wooded wonderland.

As always, the first few miles were slow, and aching--our feet and ankles sadly out of practice on the uneven terrain, cosseted by the flat asphalt streets of winter. Within the first hour, however, limbs and joints loosened by the continues ascents and descents, our feet were tripping happily up and careening jauntily down, making the occasional hop over felled trees, or turning along the meandering paths of long-gone mountain bikes and hikers.

Having taken the rocky Skyline Trail, there were, of course, several short sections physically impossible to run. We slogged our way up these, running where possible, walking where not, and occasionally pausing in search of the scenic vistas sure to be visible over, around, and through the still-naked trees of spring. It was, by far, one of the most carefree and happy runs I've had in a long time--and how could it not be? The scenery was glorious (if sparse), the miles were challenging but relaxing and loose, and the company remains, quite simply, my favorite.