We live in a very beautiful place. On one of the semi-regular trail runs this afternoon, the steepest hill tops out with a fantastic view of the San Francisco peaks 70 miles to the northeast, a good excuse to take a short break. I also managed to drop a few minutes off the round trip without trying, even with four inches of snow hidden in places towards the top. And now my knees feel excellent.
The problem now becomes choices (see below).
Work also went very well indeed; the annual football tournament to tell us that we live in a strange world. Several small herds of distinctly non-athletic adolescent girls play two-hand touch is a very refreshing thing. The real value of sport is, I believe, trying: why televised sports of all sorts have so much appeal today. Lives of quiet desperation don’t have too much real trying. So, its nice to see a big group trying hard at something they’re bad at. Trying means more than success.
My part of all this is to organize my own personal protest against what I find to be a distastefully masculine ritual. Perhaps a circumnavigation of Granite Mountain on foot, or a trip to the Grand Canyon?