Funny how I leave one of Canada’s most accessible and beautiful plays to finally appreciate the joys of running in a city (ahem) that most people can’t find on the Alberta map.
I was thinking about that when I was dragging my butt around the trails this afternoon. Funny how things turn out. I know this much is true. My old friend, Nick Chahal, would be so proud.
Back in my competitive ballhockey days, Nick and I would get the urge to run. I can’t quite remember why. We were both already busy to the bone with outdoor pursuits. He with soccer. I with touch football, inline skating and ballhockey. Like we had the time and energy.
But we did. I admit we didn’t run for long. For two people in great shape, running for five minutes was a chore. I kept talking. He kept listening. Within a few minutes, he’d have a stitch or I wanted to take a break. We were such wimps.
The best part of our runs? Heading over to the bar somewhere near Mooney’s Bay. I can’t remember. I do remember we usually ate like we ran a marathon and drank like we ran two marathons.
Oh the good old days.