MOUNTAIN LIFE - Blue Mountains | Spring 2019

60 ML BLUE SPRING 2019 Mountain, do a light jog around the Village, and get ready for business. This group is made up of working moms and women who put my productivity to shame, and here they are, dropping water bottles at the base of the climb to make the trek as lightly as possible. The gloves come off—literally. We high-five, and start to climb, almost instantly splintering into a single-file of gasping, snot-covered, wicked-fast women bulleting up the hill, oblivious to the pains in our quads and twinges in our hamstrings as we pound up over rocks and bridges, leaping over streams and logs. The Grind is just that: a grinding, painful, beautiful struggle up the Escarpment, but one that’s rewarded with a wide view of the Georgian Bay when you hit the summit. At the top, it’s time to collapse for a few seconds, leaning on trees and on each other. A cheer goes up when one of the moms reveals that she drove up at 4am to hide a water bottle behind a tree, and we all gratefully sip it, not minding that our sweat is mixing as we pass the bottle around. The sun is just cresting the trees and the colours over the Bay are glimmering pink and orange. We kick back into a light jog, because in addition to that attempt, we have another two treks up and down the Mountain before the workout is over. I’ve found my people. I’ve found my place. This year, I have a few goals in mind: a return to my home state to tackle a mountain 50K that, as it turns out, isn’t as far from my hometown as I thought. And the Summit 700 right here at Blue Mountain Resort in July, with options ranging from 6 to 21 kilometres of steeps. Plus, farther-flung sections of the Bruce Trail, and hopefully, a run around the La Cloche Silhouette Trail in Killarney Provincial Park. And I’m just getting started. TOP LEFT COLIN FIELD. TOP RIGHT GEOFF ALLEN/COURTESY SUMMIT 700 BOTTOM RIGHT MARK LOCKI We high-five, and start to climb, almost instantly splintering into a single-file of gasping, snot-covered, wicked-fast women bulleting up the hill, oblivious to the pains in our quads.