Name That Animal

Today, Casey and I came across a common sight at the top of the Taconic Ridge.

(Porcupine!)

Unfortunately, we couldn't get a better picture of one of the (apparently common?) ridge-dwelling porcupines. When we tried to approach it and ask it for a photo-op, it raised its quills and glared at us like we were making it watch reruns of Hannah Montana episodes. So we got the hell out of there.

(Looking into eastern New York.)

Instead, we fueled our inner animal and continued on to the snow hole. There, a blanket of leaves still insulated a thick snowpack, a not-so-subtle reminder of the culmination of this year's training next winter.

(Casey checking out some nice quartz veins.)

After a brief water break in the hole and an interesting geology discussion, we continued on down from New York into Vermont, where we followed a logging road down to Northwest Hill Rd. and back home.

Despite our inconsequential porcupine incident, the important thing that I find on these long runs has everything to do with a wild animal. As I become more and more accustomed to long workouts, I find that I take an increasing amount of pleasure from running for more than two and a half hours. (I never had a single workout longer than two hours until last summer) No matter how long they are or how much rolled ankles hurt, the endorphins are always there to pick me up at the end. I just need to be able to find my own wild animal inside to want to go out exploring, and to want to put myself through a little pain.

It has taken me a while to find that wild animal, because I definitely did not have it in high school. This year was the first that I had a real hunger for training, and in reality I am glad it is coming so late. It makes my goals for the future that much more exciting. My wild animal is still growing. As for Casey, this was only his third year skiing. He will come with a vengeance next year, which should strike fear into the hearts of all his competitors.