running down a dream

Exciting hikey stats: Kuliouou VII. Eleventh hike, eighth halfway, seventh of the summer, fifth timed trial, 40 minutes to the tables with four 20-oz. water bottles (in varying degrees of fullness of course), half an orange and an ice pack in an insulated bag as weight additional to what I usually carry (a camera, cell phone, and two, not four, bottles of water). To achieve 40 minutes (my best time so far) I had to eliminate all complete rests (no sitting, no stopping for more than 60 seconds, drinking while walking) and I had to sprint the last stretch, which was not fun. But the fact that it was at all possible for me to run hard near the very end was hugely gratifying.

And now, for the many reasons it is generally not a good idea to run down the trail with a small dog as your sole companion: if the potential for twisted ankles and sprained knees weren't enough, you've got your head down the whole time, looking two to three feet ahead of you at the most, and (if you're (a) clumsy and (b) a perpetual daydreamer like me) you could easily run yourself right off the side of the mountain. Also, average recovery time for shin splints is two to four weeks, too much time to be out of commission for a person like me, who, in striving toward a goal, needs to put in some time on a regular (if not daily) basis. Oh and I should clarify that "running" is a generous description of the actual activity. It's anywhere between a scamper and a jog, mostly because you have to be prepared to slam on the brakes at a moment's notice. Running over, between, and on top of loose rocks - especially hazardous. So, what is the sole reason I repudiate all the aforementioned caveats and run gleefully down the mountain every time? There is simply no feeling as liberating.

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By the way, we found this lone noni sitting on the table. Geocaching "treasure," perhaps?