The trail breaks out of the forrest and proceeds through the meadow. Leveling out just enough to carry a stride. The landscape quickly turns lunar, the path hairpins left - and skyward. The slope teeters and pace becomes wry. Weathered rocks taunt over your shoulders with million-year-old-stories of runners, hikers and miners that have carried the same stride. A distant, wide eyed, thousand-yard-stare is the only glimpse you get into their soul, save for a few muddled and inaudible swear words that flutter between gasps of breath. Pride and desire pushes us forward, the body follows.