Clouds

I ran 17.03 miles, gaining 2838 feet of elevation. I went an hour without seeing a single car, I went less than a minute between cars. I ran in rain, snow, and the dry. I ran on street, snow, ice, rock, pavement, dirt. I ran on asphalt because the sidewalk lost all grip. I ran next to cars that slowed down and pulled to the other lane on South Hills, ran past cars that didn't on the Frontage Road. I ran in a cloud. I could see the trail ahead of me, and had no clue what the valley below looked like. I ran on Eddie McClure Trail, which I never ran on, and up Sanders, which I've run hundreds of times. I went up hills, and I went downhills. I felt great, and I bonked. I felt the legs lose all power, unable to handle the slightest inclines. I felt the legs gain power, smashing up Mount Ascension. I love running in clouds. I love looking down and seeing clouds. Sometimes, I love looking up and seeing clouds. I love clouds at night, and hate clouds opening up at night. The belly of my calf hurts. My quadriceps did hurt. My nipples got bloody and chaffed, and if that's gross to think about, it's far more painful to live through. More painful than the calves, more painful than the quads. Bag Balm is my savior. I ate a large burrito at Taco Del Sol. My Garmin says that I should eat more. I eat a lot, but my Garmin says that I need to eat more. It never tells me that I need to go faster, but it sometimes tells me that I should go slower. It's usually honest, but I don't always listen. I should listen to it more often, but I think it might be lying. I'll be back out soon enough. Can't stop it now.