Leon

With longing eyes, glancing up as I passed, they suggested, "Can I go down with you?" His tongue dangled out of a gray flecked muzzle as he mechanically trotted uphill behind his caretakers. Ever since that first encounter, I have admired the same aging dog at varying spots throughout the trail system always moving forward, dedicated to keeping his caretakers in sight.

Moustache Unplugged #27

hehehe...undetected, I seize the opportunity to work on my letter.....

Dear Uptight Trail Runner,

You took an absolutely magical moment and, with your sourpuss attitude, wrecked it. Fortunately, your nonsense is not contagious as I still embrace the beauty, grace and artistry of the moment.

Moustache Unplugged #25

hehehe...undetected, I take the opportunity to work on my letter...

Dear Mr. Self-Important,

Remember me?  After packing out a rock sling, a steel digging bar and a rake for nearly 1.5 miles on a rocky trail, you, from the comfort of the trail head's parking lot, rudely accosted me.

Cleared

"Just cool your jets...you're doing this to yourself," stated my surgeon as I honestly admitted my Achilles was still not feeling 100%. "The MRI shows no tears or detachment, just inflammation from an angry tendon."

"Cool my jets?  Heck, there's only a sputtering candle flame! And screw that angry tendon, it's a wuss that is really interfering in my life," I replied.

So, with the wave of the computer mouse and a simple left click, the doctor's electronic signature cleared me to resume living life.

Moustache Unplugged #21

hehehe....undetected, I grab the opportunity to work on my letter....

Dear Mountain Bike Riders,

Like any population, there's good, bad and average with the focus of this letter directed to the entitled buttwipe bikers who disregard the sense of maintaining a true singletrack and feel it's their right to customize trails to better match their pathetic skill set.  Plus, this same group quizzically challenges who has the right of way with other trail users and I'm reaching the point of jabbing a stick in the front spokes and folding over in laughter while witnessing the spectacular end-over crash.

Hips 'n Hops

Whoa! I caught The Moustache finishing another letter and intercepted it. He had branched out and reached a whole new level, and, after reading it, I referred to him as The Dirty Moustache. His latest was naughty, sensuous and totally inappropriate on this forum, but I made a compromise. Because I liked the idea, we agreed if I would clean it up from his X-rated version to something more acceptable, I'd publish it.

Patience

Patiently, I wait.

Everyday the yearning to see her, to feel her, to breath with her, to run with her becomes increasingly unbearable.  I close my eyes and remember sweat slickened skin, pumping arms, churning legs, labored breathing and a racing heart while spending time with her.  I reminisce over great music from our custom playlist filling my ears while her pine forest scent tickled my nose.  Although bedridden with this dreadful cast, I still catch glimpses of her from my window.  She looks so lovely in the distance.