Cubarathon – Day 6

Mileage for the day : 10 miles
Total mileage : 61 miles

I'm sitting in my room, naked, feeling the fresh sea breeze coming from the open window and grinning from ear to ear. I wasn't even supposed to run today...

I met this guy, Martin, this morning, lounging by the pool. Super nice dude. He's a retired professor and a trumpet player, and he used to be runner, he told me. “You weren't a runner; you * are * a runner”, I replied. “You should see your face light up when you talk about it!”

We had a long conversation about health, being active, enjoying life and the awesome feeling of being outside, moving on your own, being free. He told me how he regretted having stopped being active and becoming a heavier guy, and said he'd like to start being active and feeling good again.

So I told him a little bit about my journey, as well as the adventures of some other inspiring friends like Dan, Catra, Sweeney and Jack, who took big decisions about their lives and reaped huge rewards. I told him how little it took to see great improvement, and I told him about how things should always feel fun, liberating and exhilarating.

The more we talked, the more he made me feel like going for a run. We parted ways about lunch time so I could go take a nap, and I came back by the pool a little later, dressed up for running, just to see if he was around. I would've loved to take him out on his very first run, but he was nowhere to be found.

So I took off on my own, with the plan of really jogging a slow shuffle to the beach's end and back, just enjoying the view and soaking my last sun rays. The tide was at the highest I'd seen it, which made the first part particularly slanted. Tons of crushed little seashells had washed on the sand, too, and made pathfinding a little more finicky. 

After a little while, however, it seemed the high waters had leveled things a little better and I found myself running on pretty decent, harder-packed stretches. I naturally sped up a little and broke into a pretty decent pace. I thought I'd just keep it for as long as it felt good, but the miles started piling and I felt better and better, so I just kept smiling and took advantage of this sudden burst of energy, pretty convinced it would fade away soon.

I reached the end of the beach faster than I expected, and I decided to not take a break at all and turn around, see if the wind at my back would lift me up a little bit and help me keep going. Pretty soon, I was running much faster than I was on my way out. To hell with it, I thought; if I crash later on, I have a gel or two in my pack, so why not? Let the five-year-old out!

Instead of speeding even faster, I just picked a good clip and tried to stay with it for the rest of the run. I'd say I was close to the effort of running a faster 10k, but on sand, splashing through some incoming waves every once in a while. I was facing the setting sun and the wind was at my back, which made for a dreamy running setup. It felt awesome to be out.

Soon enough, I reached the half-way point and my energy was still high. I started smirking at the idea of making Dan's GPS say I ran a record again, even if I realized how childish this was. It just made me smile and motivated to keep going. I think I even sped up a little, for good measure.

I really realized I was going pretty fast when I saw another runner on the horizon, who seemed to have a similar running pace as my usual. I caught up and swooshed by like it was no one's business, feeling strong and hungry for more. At this point, I know the beach pretty well and I counted the coves to my finishing point, so I had a precise idea of the distance left and the effort I could put.

I finished going pretty much all out for a solid 2k, not sprinting but pushing it as hard as I could. I reached my end of the beach knowing I could've gone a solid extra 3 or 4 at the same pace and I felt like a tiger. I ran the asphalt street all the way to the hotel and finally pushed the stop button on the Garmin.

“New 5K record”, it first beeped.

“New 10K record”, it then said.

“New speed record, 1h35”, it finally announced.

I'm really super proud. Not only am I not broken anymore, but I can run long, and back-to-back, and gain speed, and sustain it for several miles, and still yearn for more.

I'll take that any day :)

This week has been a great success. I feel great, refreshed, strong and positive. This is exactly what I'd dreamed of, coming here. I couldn't have wished for a better way to end 2015, running strong through a shiny, new, fresh, inspiring year.

This is going to be awesome.

Funny. When I left Martin, earlier, he said “Hey. Thanks for the inspiration”. I immediately replied “No, man, thank *you * for the inspiration!” and walked away. I hope one day he reads this, maybe after one of his runs, and understands this thing goes both ways. Happy journey, man!

Cubarathon – Day 5

Mileage for the day : 20 miles
Total mileage : 51

Believe it or not, I actually set an alarm for this morning. I didn't want to miss the early daylight on the beach, and the couple hours of running I could get before the sun starts beating down. I ate a Clif Bar, drank a little water, filled my bladder with a mix of water and guava juice and headed straight for the beach.

I was just starting out my run, thinking about my friend Sweeney who gets to do this most everyday and how I could get used to that lifestyle pretty easily, when I was pulled out of my thoughts by a gorgeous young woman sunbathing in the early rays, topless. I grinned wide and kept going.

I made a quick calculation that a double out-and-back would give me more than 20 miles, which would be pretty good. The beach was quiet on my way out, and the little rolling waves at my feet made time fly by pretty quickly. I ran out of beach faster than expected, thinking I was coming around to another cove. The sand ends on very jaggy rock that reminds me of lava flows, but most of the rocks were covered by sand, which I guess is an effect of the rising tide. The water was receding now, so I was pretty cautious picking my way through. This was getting me nowhere anyway, so I gave a quick look at the Garmin before turning back. 7.5K.

The beach was getting more and more crowded by the minute, but I didn't mind. Some fishermen were walking down to the water to throw their nets and hopefully catch some fish, and I really wondered how they pick a spot when everything looks so much the same to me. Is this a random thing, or is there more to it?

I crossed paths with several other runners, too, and noticed how each and everyone of them was smiling wide. Running happy. Gotta like that :)

About half way back, my legs started feeling a little weird. As I've said before, that beach is way more slanted that I'd hoped for, so I'm basically running at an angle I guessed to be about 20 to 30 degrees at some points. I probably compensate that slope in many ways, and I expected this to quickly become an issue. But so far, so good. However, the way my legs felt at that point was slightly different and I started becoming weary that my knees or my hips would get injured.

So I made a decision. I'll finish this first 15K, go get some breakfast and rest, then make this day a “twofer”; I'll wait for the late afternoon sun and head back out for another run before dinner. 

And I did :) I had a nice nap by the pool, after seeing three amazing girls dance some traditional Flamenco. I don't think there's anything sexier than this affirming, racy, woman-centric dance, with its fantastic flair and rhythmic music. I absolutely loved it.

I can't say I was super eager to go out again, the sun being still pretty strong, but the prospect of scoring a 20-mile day was appealing, for many reasons. First of all, it's a decent distance; but it's also a personal record for a barefoot run, which I find pretty exciting. I haven't run barefoot so much last fall after all, but my feet are holding up surprisingly well and my legs, in all honesty, feel awesome.

I took off slowly and built to a nice trot. I got a little worried again because of the slant, but everything felt pretty good and it felt like I reached the end of that beach in a pretty good time. I wasn't tired much, so I took a couple sips out of my vest and started my return. With a gusty wind to my back, I found myself picking up some speed... and enjoying it. I sustained it for a good distance, too, so everything went as well as I could possibly hope for.

The last half mile, I felt the burn under both my big toes and got worried that I might have blisters, but it turned out to only be hot spots. When I got back to the hotel, Dan's Garmin clamored “You've made a new distance record!”, then “You've run your fastest 10K!”. I'm thus writing this pretty tired, and pretty proud :)

Now all I want... is FOOD!

Cubarathon - Day 4

Miles for the day : 0

Total miles : 31

I woke up today feeling a little sore for the first time. Is it the amazingly crappy mattress, the higher mileage, the noisy nights, the less-than-optimal food? It doesn't matter. I'm on vacation after all, so screw it. Let's have a zero day!

It's often like this when I travel south during wintertime. The first few days are super exciting, I bounce all over in the unbridled happiness of being under the sun again. Then, a couple days go by and my body gets a little bit of a backlash. After all, I've been spending months in low light, freezing temperatures and 9-to-5 life. Jumping right out of it is exhilarating, but I also need to take things in stride if I don't want to overdo it and end up with a bad sunburn, an injury or a mix of both.

So I simply went downstairs and found a comfy lounger by the poolside, soaking in the early morning rays then switching to the shade of a bunch of palm trees under which funny little lizards with spiral tails play around. I spent several hours finishing an amazing book I started last summer; it traces back the steps of the first real explorers of North America; my French-Canadian ancestors. It's a very little-known fact, but my great grand-dads were pretty badass. Upon their arrival in their boats, many of them figured out their European ways would not cut it in this wilderness and headed straight for the bush, where they met and shared their life with the Natives Peoples of the area. Most of them never returned to “settled” life and preferred traveling around wih their brothers and sisters, learning the ways of hunting, gathering, pathfinding and long-distance travelling with the best of the best.

These people (they were mostly men, but there were women, too) were quickly judged and called the “ensavaged ones”. Most were dissed and History wasn't kind to them. They were often only referred to as “boys” or “mountainmen” by other travelers like Lewis and Clark (Surprise! A good portion of their crew were French Canadians) and the other stars of the great American expeditions. But the truth is, it was French-Canadians, accompanied by their new families (mostly natives, but also some freed or runaway slaves and the Metis of the Canadian Prairies as well) who were the first non-natives to see and travel the bulk of North America.

Reconnecting with this part of History made me realize that I am not as estranged as I think about my own culture; I am simply kindred with the ones “the civilized world” overlooked and dismissed, even though they were the true backbone of the early days of the white man in this new continent.

Important sidenote; I learned that the very vast majority of the Ensavaged Ones were welcomed with open arms by our Native brothers and sisters, who were impressed with their openness and honored by the respect and interest these wild men showed them. My ancestors lived by the hundreds (if not thousands) peacefully with many different tribes, embracing their way of life and thriving with them, often refusing to go anywhere without their clan, much less settle back into the white villages that were developing everywhere. They relentlessly defended the rights of the First Nations, often to their great disadvantage, and they married and had families inside their clan which also brought a lot of judgement and racism upon them. But they didn't care. They had discovered an amazing, wild, challenging way of life that respected Nature and brought them exaltation and many adventures. I'm extremely proud of how they approached their new life, acknowledging and respecting the First Nations and blending with them completely, as equals, as should be. If History had given the Ensavaged Ones the role they deserved, we would live in a much different world today.

My book left me yearning for more and motivated me to keep reading about these brave men and women who ended up merely a sidenote of North American history. It helped me understand that I, as an apple, have finally ended up not falling so far from the tree. I share the values, curiosity, sense of kinship and taste for adventure of the Ensavaged Ones. If I had lived in that era, I would've done the exact same thing as they have.

I daydreamed the rest of my afternoon, imagining the crazy untold adventures of Étienne Brûlé, Guillaume Couture, John McLaughlin, Louis Jolliet, Jean-Baptiste Charbonneau and all the others. I got plenty of rest, ate three good meals and enjoyed the gorgeous Cuban weather.

Before long, I started to feel the urge of going for a run again. I love this feeling; it means my body wants it as much as my spirit. I'm rested, I'm happy and I'm ready for more.

Cubarathon – Day 3

A section of the beach, where the slant was decent

Miles for the day : 13
Total miles : 31

The barman downstairs calls me “ironman”... After 3 days of watching me go out the lobby and come back hours later, he finally asked what I was doing and where I was going. His conversation starter? He said I was the guest that drank the most water he'd ever seen :)

He is a cool dude despite his jaded look (Trust me, I'd look like that if I had his job, too) and he added several blocks of ice to my bladder so my water stays fresh for the run. Some drunk fat guy having 7:00 am drinks was getting a little too interested in what I was doing, so I left my barman buddy with a high-five and headed out the door.

As soon as I reached the beach, I decided to run towards town instead of the tip of the peninsula. I was curious to see how long that huge beach went, and I figured I'd follow it until I'd run out of sand, turn around, do the same on the other side and get a pretty good run for my day. I was a little worried to do longer mileage completely barefoot, moreover because the sand is slanted and pretty soft, so I took it easy.

The day started off pretty badly. The sand was actually so soft that my feet would sink about 2 inches at every step, making this feel exactly like running in snow, which I know soon takes a toll on hip flexers and other muscles not so used to yank your feet up at every step. I started to see a lot of broken glass, too, and some of the beach was actually not sand, but tons of what I guessed was crushed seashells. The ground was too soft, felt like sandpaper and the slant was already getting to me. Not good.

I kept going anyway, allowing myself to walk the worst stretches. There was almost nobody on the beach, so it was a nice quiet moment, watching super quick little crabs scramble before me, chased by running seabirds who always looked to be 5 steps behind. Maybe it's a sport they play together?

After some miles, the beach is severed by a large man-made canal, so I had to turn around and go back the way I came. Remembering the effect of passing in front of my hotel yesterday, I started thinking today wouldn't be that long of a run, either. Lucky for me, I kinda lost sight of where I needed to exit the beach. The sand got increasingly packed, the slant gentler and soon enough, I was trotting at a pretty good clip with a big smile on my face.

I started spotting landmarks far away and telling myself I would run to them before turning back, then I'd spot another one and just keep going. I played that game for a pretty long time, until I literally ran out of beach, several miles later. I paused for a little seaside snack, drank some water and took off in the other direction.

I thought I was doing pretty decent mileage, but I guess the heightened difficulty of running on sand got me confused. I ended up running 13 miles. How do I know? Well, my friend Dan left his GPS at my place last summer, and I decided to take it with me on the trip. It's a Garmin model I've never seen and it's super easy to use. It's lost its bracelet, too, so you just throw it in your pocket or your vest and forget about it. Then when your run is over, you get to have a reality check :)

It might not have been a super long run, but I'm excited about a couple things. First, that was a 100% barefoot beach half-marathon, and my feet feel great. Also, my knees have ran like champs ever since I got here, and the miles are piling up under less-than-ideal conditions (asphalt, soft sand). Finally, my body feels great and my energy level is good, too. So I'm very happy with this little trip so far. We'll see what tomorrow brings, but I'd love to find some shaded trails somewhere, if that's not too much to ask. I'll probably try and talk to some locals, see if I can get any luck :)

Cubarathon – Day 2

Miles for the day : 6
Total miles : 18

Remember yesterday, when I stopped to re-fit my sandals and tape up my toes? Turns out I left my roll of Band-Aid tape somewhere on that bench! That stuff is the only tape I know that stretches, has a soft padded material and stays on even if you sweat, so I was really bummed when I flipped my vest upside down and inside out and couldn't find the brand new roll I'd brought.

So instead of running the beach today, I put my shoes on (no tape, no sandals) and headed back the same way I headed yesterday. Funny how distance seems so much smaller when you run a route for the second time. In what felt like minutes, I was there, at the little public park with benches, looking all around. No luck. No tape. It's just gone. Ah, well.

Since I was already out and wearing shoes, I figured I'd make this run a little road adventure. The street my hotel's on has several nice shaded sidewalk stretches, so the mid-day sun wasn't too brutal. I'm already doing better in the humid heat, too, which means I can breathe well and not feel smothered by the damp sea air.

I probably picked up some speed, because I started to feel really, really hot soon after. Dodging fat tourists around the sidewalks felt like a game, and I guess I was imagining myself a super nimble parkour runner or a ninja. I decided to take a break under a big tree, drink some water and chill for a couple minutes.

Almost immediately after resuming my run, I ended up at the same crossroad joining the autopista. I really didn't feel like running along that thing again, so I veered right and aimed for the first street that would take me back to the village. I crossed a pretty little fair with playing kids, restaurants, cafes where friends sat to have a drink and chat. I think I like Varadero much better than any other place I've seen in this country.

Lost in thoughts, I just kept jogging along, twisting between rows of slow beachgoers and tourists, winking at local kids and smiling wide. The day was very hot, however, and I remember being surprised at how much I was sweating. Before long, I realized I had gotten back to my starting point, and the hotel lobby felt very, very appealing. The midday heat had made me feel a little dizzy and the prospect of a cold beer under the shade got the last part of my motivation. I called it a day at a little over six miles, spent several more minutes stretching in the shade and enjoyed the rest of day napping in a lounger, reading a book and fantasizing on awesome exotic fruits, champagne and lobsters.

On a sidenote, I discovered that some of the food served at the hotel is actually quite decent. They make a very simple, paella-like rice dish that's very tasty and they serve root vegetables I'm not sure I've ever had before. One is pasty and orange and reminds me of yucca, the other one is tubular and looks like a potato, but is very fibery and has some sort of “spine” you can't eat. This particular one I like a lot. And since they serve both fresh-cut and cooked cabbage, I'm pretty happy with what I eat!

I'll go to bed early tonight and see if I can wake up earlier and head for the beach for an early morning long run tomorrow. Aside from a couple blisters, my body feels great and eager for more!

Cubarathon – Day 1

Welcome to my little playground :)

Miles for the day : 12

With my body constantly getting better and my fitness almost back where I want it to be, thanks to an unbelievable autumn and early winter that were the mildest on record, I decided to make my Cuban vacation a personal winter training camp. I brought three times more running gear than standard clothes and enough gels and bars to run a hundred mile race. Actually, if everything goes well, I should pull off about that distance if I streak and remain constant... Hell if it goes better than planned, I might run more than that. But let's not get ahead of ourselves.

I got here yesterday night, eager to start a week of running and relaxing in the sun. I'm on my own, which has a lot of advantages. I do what I want, when I want, I can sleep, eat or simply be contemplative to my heart's content.

My hotel is indescribably crappy, with chipped walls, rotten doorways and terrible mattresses, but I find it has a lot of charm for some reason. I don't know if it's because my Spanish has become so much better, but the personnel is super friendly and even random people I met on my run today were open, helpful and smiley. That makes me happy, because my previous Cuban experiences have never been too great, socially speaking.

I woke up at my own rhythm this morning, after a night of watching my TV's only channel, which plays back-to-back episodes of Anthony Bourdain's series. I sorta knew who the guy was, but I'd never really watched the show. I really enjoyed watching him travel through China, then Vietnam, then Thailand, making friends and trying all sorts of exquisite foods and alcohols. He's got nothing on my friend Dan, but it was fun to follow his gastronomic adventures.

As soon as I pulled the curtain, my room got flooded in the gorgeous yellow light of a sunny day, and I marveled at the blue expense that spreads from my window to the horizon. I made my way down to the restaurant, which is 7 flights of stairs each time I go to or from my room. I figured that's part of the training.

Most of you probably don't know Cuba (although that's about to change really soon), so you might not know that it's infamous for its food. Being economically choked by the world's strongest superpower for more than 60 years is sure to leave a trace, so the country relies pretty exclusively on basic staple foods it produces. Add to this fact that I chose the lowest possible grade of accommodation because I'm a dirtbag, and you've got the right ingredients for terrible buffet-style dining... So much so that I've only eaten fruits and white rice so far, and I don't plan to change my diet much if I want to keep a straight stomach.

So after a plateful of decent fresh fruits like guavas, bananas, pineapple slices and something that looked and tasted like a mix of of a lime and an orange (yes, it was delicious), I filled my running vest's bladder and took off.

I didn't have the first idea where to go, so I thought I'd just follow my hotel's street until the miles pile up. It turned out to be a good plan, since I happen to live on one of the longest streets in the peninsula, it seems. I crossed little markets, shops, smiley little kids playing outside and old ladies going about their daily chores. It felt great to see the ordinary, everyday Cuban life, as most resorts are so remote from anything local that you hardly ever have contact with anyone when you come here on an all-inclusive plan. Some people even smiled or waved at me, and I felt perfectly comfortable to wander around on my own two feet.

After about an hour, I made a stop to fiddle with my Luna Origen ATS laces, which rub in-between my big and second toes. I'd specifically brought a roll of Band-Aid tape, expecting this would happen. I took two bits of it, wrapped my second toes and put the sandals back on, with a slight adjustment of the laces. Perfect.

When I finally reached the end of my street, I looked up and decided to veer in the direction of the ocean. Mid-day was coming and the heat here is extremely humid, which makes it a little harder for me to withstand. Add the fact that my skin hasn't pretty much seen a single sun ray since the Copper Canyons, and you'll probably understand why I started to aim for some shade.

I thought I would soon reach some shaded areas by the beach, but instead ended up on the Autopista, a crappy highway filled with exhaust-spewing 50-year-old trucks and cars your grandpa used to drive (they do look amazing, on the other hand). I wasn't very happy with my predicament, and it took a while before I spotted a posh-looking resort and decided to head that way. I'd just walk in and head for the beach, I thought, and run from there back to my point of origin.

I got to the beach, took off my sandals and grinned wide at the idea of a long barefoot run in the sand, but my smile faded pretty quickly when I realized the hotel was built on some cove, blocked on two sides by extremely jagged rock formations. Dammit.

I turned back and followed the directions a nice dude from the hotel gave me. A little while later, after inhaling the black highway fumes for the second time, I finally found a little pathway that lead directly to the beach. It is probably the longest ongoing strip of sand I've ever seen; it took me straight back to my hotel, some 7 miles away. And it keeps going as far as my eyes can see!

The only not-so-great part is that the beach has a sizable slant, which means I can't run anywhere that's flat. After some time coming back, my left hip started to feel the burn. My feet are doing great, however, thanks in part to the barefoot running I've been doing on treadmills this fall. And both my knees feel perfect.

My plan for tomorrow? I'll try to wake up early and get my run early in the morning so I don't get beaten down too much by the sun. I'll run the other direction on the beach, so if my hip starts to hurt, I'll turn around and use the slant to my advantage. And who knows, if I can get some decent mileage, a good nap and a decent mid-day meal, maybe I can go on a sunset run later in the day?

Life is good.

10 Reasons To Run in Winter

If you're anything like me, you don't deal with cold a single bit. I often say I'm a Mexican, born in the wrong country. I love deserts, big radiating sunshine and green forest trails. The fact is, I pretty much hate winter.

Over recent years, however, I discovered that my love for running outweights my adverse feelings for the cold season. I'll even admit that, under the right circumstances, I almost enjoy some good snowy trails... granted I take the following in consideration :

1. It's awesome training
Snow rarely packs hard enough to completely hold your weight, which means your feet are going to sink and twist at every step, which makes for excellent stability training and a tougher body altogether.

2. There's hardly anyone
You'll pretty much have the trails to yourself. The woods are silent, still and calm, which offers great opportunities for introspection and relaxation. Aside from the crispy sound of your own steps and the occasional jumpy little squirrel, it's you and Mother Nature and there's something powerful about that.

3. You don't need to drink so much
Cold weather, for some reason, seems to repress your need to drink. I probably hydrate 1/10th compared to summer running, without any adverse effects. Consequently, I usually go out with a single handheld bottle and it largely suffices to my needs.

4. You won't be cold, really
Anyone who lives in a cold country knows that we get miserable mostly when we underdress for the conditions. A pair of jeans in -20F simply cannot keep you warm. Multiple layers of running gear, however, are actually way warmer than the usual stuff we wear. When it gets really cold, I put on two pairs of socks, two layers of tights and a pair of shorts, a compression t-shirt with arm sleeves, a Polartech long-sleeve shirt, plus a base layer jacket and a windbreaker. I have a face mask, a buff for my neck and at least one hat. If I go out and start moving immediately, the cold doesn't even come through. And don't believe anyone telling you that you should be careful not to overdress because you'll get too hot. This is abysmal bullshit.

5. It's good for your form
Winter slips and slides, there's ice and loose snow and all sorts of variations on the trail. Therefore, you simply can't have a long stride unless you want to end up on crotches. The conditions pretty much force you to shorten your stride and to take quick, close-together steps in order to keep your balance. That's awesome news, because this teaches - or reminds - you proper running form.

6. It's a whole new challenge
Snow, ice and everything in between react very differently under your feet than, say packed dirt or sand. Winter dramatically changes your workouts by adding some sinking and sliding and it will add some new challenges to your every day runs, particularly when dealing with downhills. It requires another level of awareness and offers a welcome change in pace. Embrace it!

7. You're burning way more calories
When your body fights the cold, your metabolism shifts in high gear and you burn more calories per hour than you would in mild conditions. Add some harder winter running to that mix and you get a potent, high-demand workout that will burn insane amounts of calories for about the same level of effort as your summer runs. Ain't that a nice bonus?

8. It's gentle on the body
A couple inches of snow will efficiently cover up the gnarly parts of the trail and change it to a soft, smooth single-track path that is gentle on your legs and offers reduced "bounce", making for a very cushioned, comfortable ride.

9. Taking a spill isn't an issue
Running rocky, gnarly trails and falling will hurt you pretty badly. Although we rarely shy away from a bloody shin or a bruised arm, it's nice to know that falling, rolling and overall loosing your shit in winter will very rarely even leave a mark. You'll have a good laugh, get back up, shake off the snow and get going again, unscathed.

10. You'll feel like a badass
It's actually way more than a feeling. It's an absolute fact. Being out there on the trails while some cars won't even start, coming back home with ice hanging from your eyebrows and lashes is 100% pure, total badass!

So go on, give it a try. I'm sure you'll find it's better than staying inside, depressed, dreaming about the summer trails and being grossly miserable :)

Frozen Land

A little video I shot on my first run of 2015, on the snow-covered trails of Gaspesie, a beautiful region of Quebec filled with fresh air, nice people and good vibes :)

May this new year bring you good health, a strong body and a clear mind.

Run Free!