The Tarahumara Indians can run for 200 kilometers in sandals carved from discarded car tires without batting an eye. I can run for two weeks in specially-made running sandals before my Achilles’ tendon throws in the towel and leaves me hobbling the house around with an ice-pack strapped to my ankle.
When I moved here, one of the things I was most excited about was that I could be running on hundreds of kilometers of hiking trails starting just 500 ft from my door. And the first two weeks of April, when we had unseasonably summer-like weather, I took advantage of this and headed out the door several days a week shortly before sunrise to be on top of the first hill of the Siebengebirge in time to greet the new day and see the sky change from blue to pink to orange. In these quiet morning hours it was easy to lose track of time, both literally and metaphorically. All this unnoticed time eventually caught up with me and my legs decided to stage a protest. I have decided to entertain their demands (they didn’t give me much choice) and take a couple weeks off. Hopefully my legs will start cooperating soon and I can get back to the trails.