The last time I ran a half marathon I pounded pavement on the streets of Ottawa, running past parliament buildings with 15,000 others surrounded by city skyline. When I crossed the finish line, I said I’d never run that far again.
And yet, here I am on a warm October morning running along the Elk River with 398 others for the Fernie Half Marathon. The view, unlike Ottawa, is much more beautiful, a whole lot fresher and there’s no city noise. Only snow-capped mountains.
This is how a half-marathon should be.