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Mountain Climbing


Today I ran to the top of a small mountain (okay, a hill) along the lake. Lake Otay [where we paddle] is ridiculously gorgeous, and it's always amazing how you never remember that when you're two sets in to two-hours of sprint pieces with paddle-back rest. Weird.

But, hey- I'm a nature girl! I wear a wool beanie; I have Solomon running shoes and a Swix water-bottle-holder. If that doesn't say "Wow this girl loves trail running" then I don't know what does.

I ran on the trail along the side of the lake (where the bugs are so thick you have to keep your mouth closed... and plug your nose, and close your eyes) and to the dam, whereupon I stopped to take a breather, because I'd been holding my breath and plugging my nose for a mile and a half. (I'm actually REALLY good at this because I can make it across about 3/4 of one pool length [but not an Olympic-sized pool] while swimming underwater.)

At the dam, the road turns into an entrance to Otay Lakes Park, which I believe is the last speck of American civilization. The park has a rocky trail up one of the smaller hill/mountain-by-Southern-California-standards things. I sprinted up to the top (just kidding, I walked) and then I gazed across the border at Mexico, picked some wildflowers (Keith Anderson, anyone?), and sang “Climb Every Mountain” from the Sound of Music... really loudly, to scare away the rattlesnakes.