haulin' aspen, eucalyptus and oak

Trail Running is a messy business.

Yesterday I ran with a seventy-one year-old Norwegian man named Allert. He runs with the Racy Ladies. Allert broads over the women runners like a kindly old grandpa. He makes sure we are hydrated and educated on routes. He makes sure we stretch after every run. We ran a dirt trail in the variegated shade of the tall eucalyptus trees and I listened to him talk of his emigration from Norway and his travels around America. Allert is slight man, lean and sinewy. He told me he used to be two inches taller. Last weekend, he placed second in his age category at the San Francisco Half Marathon. He has no intentions in slowing down or taking it easy in his old age. I wanted to hug this man who I had just met.

I am really enjoying trail running. Don't get me wrong- it is totally kicking my butt- and my shoes are a filthy mess, but I am having fun. I am, however, spending a senseless amount of time cleaning the dirt from under my toenails.

Now to a small bone I have to pick with my readers. The response I have gotten to the Top Rockstar contest has been- well, underwhelming. Come on people! If you don't have a blog, put it on your my space page. If you don't have a my space page, blog or web page, you are probably over the age of thirty, not super web savvy, may or may not wear Dockers and not really into hip new music sites anyway, so you are excused.