Deny, deny, deny

3 11 2011

I live in denial.

I am not a runner. Even when I lace up my sneakers, pull on my hoodey and head out in the chilled dusk, I will deny any running inclinations.

I just want to maintain some level of fitness, so all that work I did through the spring and summer doesn’t go to waste. And my pants still fit.

I am not a runner. I am not a runner. I am not a runner...

But let’s face it, there is something alluring about just being able to head out on a whim for a brisk 30 minute cruise up and down the boardwalk, home and warm again before Entertainment Tonight is over, the rest of the evening free to watch more mindless TV, maybe even a dvd.

The evening trail rides are a long and complicated exercise in logistics, shuttling the mountain bike down from the storage locker to the car parked outside, then the long drive to UBC, then kitting up in the cold and dark.

The rides are worth it though. Especially when the air is cool and clean, searing your nostrils then warming in your lungs. The forest beyond the reach of our lights is a mystery of dark shadows and the occasional startling noise.

Riding by lights on the trail at night.

The break at the pier is always a highlight, a transcendent moment when you realize how great it is to be able to do this, the lights of the city twinkling off the gently rolling water, the dark shadow of freighters at anchor silhouetted against the distant North Shore condos. Then comes the climb back up to the trails, legs churning, lungs burning, a barometer of fitness lost or gained.

Taking a break at the pier.

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