Moving along the trails behind the resevoir I follow my mini Aussie. He scrambles back and forth, impatient with my slow pace, but ready to humor me if it means we get to run where he can be off leash. He is a great running companion. I get to think my thoughts and enjoy the trails while he adventures .

My musings circle and move around as quickly as he does, but eventually settle. I'm here.  Its a beautiful Colorado morning. I haven't fallen on some mysterious rock or branch that jumps out from nowhere. A nice six miles so far. 

Feeling the mild wind, stopping to take in a sharply brilliant view, I am acutely aware of the gift of being out here.

My running fascination has spanned decades. I was in Boston in the late 1970s, running with a group that could leave me behind, but were kind enough to run some slow miles with me. Cheered for their marathons, but only managed half the distance. Somewhere there was raising kids and work, and running was left to sporadic impulses, but kids grew and I found myself outside, on the road again. Marathons, relays, and shorter distances left some nice shirts in my closet.. Then I discovered trails. I was hooked. There is something unique to being on a trail and pushing your limits. Ultras began to look interesting.

I decided to try the Triple Crown in 2008. The year that was snow and ice and a man sticking his hand up saying 'Wait, they are closing the trail'. My impulse was to go around him, but I stood there as a group slowly formed, and we were told to turn around and go back down. Handing out my surplus poncho, shirt, gloves, and hat to shivering runners I somewhat glumly plodded down.' Next year ', I thought,' I'll be back'.

Two weeks later I was diagnosed with cancer .

I'm back.