Home from the Hills

The wife and I went to the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains to enjoy a few days of reading and relaxation. Along with my books, I also packed my running shoes, looking forward to some early morning runs through the bucolic farm landscapes.

The countryside was as inspiring as I had hoped, and the weather was several degrees cooler than in Washington. But--I had not counted on the hills. Every road and trail within reach was a series of steeply undulating waves. Given that I've not been doing any hill work, this didn't seem like the place to start. I decided to play it safe, and walked the steepest part of each hill, jogging the crests and valleys. It didn't make for a very fast time, but I won't be laid up for three weeks with a bum knee, either.