Born to Run
Most days, my alarm goes off at 6 AM. Even if I don't have my iPhone alarm set, my body seems to wake me up anyway. Time to go, my muscles tell me. Koa looks at me with uncertainty. Getting out of bed is always the hardest part of every day for her. I get it. Lifting up the blankets, the cold air rushes in. If I wasn't awake before, I sure am now. I swing my feet over the edge of the mattress and in the usual hunched position navigate around the van, which my friends have appropriately referred to as my "gear closet." Climbing, skiing, highlining, and running gear are strewn out across the carpet along with the occasional stray piece of dog kibble. Most of the time, it looks like a bomb went off. I slide my running shoes on and sigh in despair. Once again, I can't find my headlamp. This isn't the first time- but my eyes have learned to quickly adjust to the moonlight anyway. The first mile is always the hardest. My legs are sore, and I can see my breath...