Above Indian Creek, San Mateo Mountains – 3/25
The trail rose and fell through the San Mateo Mountains, weaving in and out, climbing over patches of snow and through forests. I glided forward with it, not pushing myself, not slow, just moving forward, counting miles. It felt like I’d been here before, marching up, over, and down again, crossing patches of snow, staring out from peaks, climbing over fallen trees. The next range is already peaking at me from the horizon, the last one waving goodbye.
It’s all beautiful, but my head is gone. I barely see any of it. I only think about distant things and watch myself move forward on my maps, feeling like I’ve been here before, rising, crossing, and falling down mountains.