trail running is one of those things i indulge in. every sunday i pack up my car and head to the palos forest preserve and go crazy on the miles and miles of single track at my disposal. zipping down the slopes, slogging up the bluffs, hop-scotching horse shit and racing the mosquitos...
that's my church.
when i strap on my kicks and enter the forest, i am entering holy ground... holier ground than you'll ever find in some ornate roman-catholic cathedral, holier ground than you'll find at any mosque, at any synagogue.
man is not holy. man likes to THINK he is holy, but he's full of shit. and all of the above things are made by man, for man (whether you admit to that truth or not).
the forest though... that's fucking nature. and if you wanna know the beauty of nature, go play in her playground every sunday like i do.
and if you wanna know the wrath of nature -- a wrath far more powerful than any make-believe sky daddy angst -- just go out into mother nature's playground unprepared. forget your water bottle, don't bring any snacks, get caught in a violent storm and see how long you last.
mother nature*... that's something i don't fuck with. i give her all the respect in the world.
*DISCLAIMER: i use "mother nature" as a metaphor for NATURE. i don't believe there is an actual mother out there running around watering flowers and shit.
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