Inertia. `Tis a strange phenomenon. Given an unexpected day off, a crisp, sunny day and a handy mountain, you`d think there`d be no reluctance to walk. Instead it took a while to get going and I had to lie to my sluggish, unco-operative legs: "we`ll just set off slowly and see what happens, no need to go all the way to the top." Fortunately they fall for it every time and soon get into their stride, so to speak.
Champagne air, bright sunshine, blue sky and snow: snow hanging precariously in the brances of trees then noisily clattering off; melting snow dripping onto my head; knee-deep snow making the climb hard work in places; sparkly snow; smooth snow like white velvet and soft, slushy snow, perfect for running downhill, like running down a sand dune.
As long as I can keep talking the legs into it, things`ll be fine. Which is quite close to what Kierkegaard said.
(Though my favourite walking quote is this one:
"My grandmother started walking five miles a day when she was sixty. She's ninety-three today and we don't know where the hell she is." ~Ellen DeGeneres)
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