Who shrunk the mountain?

I decided to go to Montreal this weekend to visit some friends whom I hadn't seen since I fled La Belle Province five years ago. I had had four mostly fun years living and studying in Montreal, but after a while that place, like pretty much any other place, started to irk me, and I needed to see more of the world.

Montreal--specifically, Mont-Royal, was also where I'd first started running. Sort of. I've lived mainly in downtown areas, so running late often meant literally running. Somehow, with age, came experience and forethought, though, and I had gotten out of shape. Eventually, I realized that I was starting to succumb to the family fat genes, and living unhealthily in general, and I had to do something. I lived 2 blocks away from Mont-Royal, so it was the logical choice. Nature, shade, Olmstead trail, etc.

Running was such an exhausting ordeal anyway, particularly when I was starting out, that attempting to do it uphill didn't seem to make matters worse. I have read about the Difference Threshhold and Weber's Law and so forth...I wonder what % of grade would produce a Just Noticeable Difference? My lungs were burning after about a minute or so, no matter what. I knew nothing of running; I can't remember what shoes I wore, even--my method was to run as far as I could, then walk, then resume the run, and so forth, until I was utterly crapped out.

Eventually, my run portions eclipsed 5, 10 minutes, and so forth, and eventually I made it to the horse trough (which is, I believe, 2.5 km up). I had no idea how long the whole trail was, nor what was on top...this, more than anything else, kept me going.

Approximately 2 months or so after beginning to run, I made it to the top. There's a chalet of sorts there, and a great view....and a road up for cars. That was a ridiculous shock. I got to the top, and then saw to my chagrin some poor innocent lady in support hose and a wheelchair and, gradually, many other individuals in similar condition. I'm glad that they were able to enjoy the view too, but I guess at the time I was expecting or hoping for a semi-deserted temple shrouded in mist and enlightenment. But, hey, by that time I could run, and so I ran with that, got injured, resumed running, etc, etc...it's been trying at times, and there have been at least 2 6-8 month breaks from running, due to ITBS, but since then I've had nearly 3 solid years of training and I've come a fair way. It has been a wonderful hobby.

So, about six years later, I wanted to run the mountain again. Return to the fount or, in this case, that horse trough thingy. My starting point was different, though, on the other side of the hill, so I ran for a bit to get to the trail somewhere in the middle, and then jogged down it to the Angel. Seeing that, and the way I used to end, back to my apartment on St. Urbain, gave me quite a jolt of sour nostalgia. It struck me so strongly--I was sucked five years back into the past and that wasn't a nice feeling. I hadn't been unhappy then; I'd enjoyed the grad student/musician life but chose to leave it eventually, and I wouldn't want to return to it. With relief, I turned around and jogged up the hill; with even more relief, I found it easier than I'd remembered, even though I'd been jogging for about an hour already at this point.

It was a simple matter getting to the top. I was in a zone, not pushing myself hard, and there was a cool clammy breeze for much of it, too, and very little sun. It was a little disorientating to realize that I'd forgotten almost all the landmarks along the way. When I had been starting out, my running intervals were so short that I memorized this rock, that tree....now the whole thing blurred and suddenly I was at the top.

It was so easy that I decided to, for the first time, attempt the loop around the top. I believe it is about 4.5 km to the lookout, and then there is another km or so around. The loop started off uphill, which was a surprise, but then I could imagine that there were upteen more ascents, that I had completed only one stage of 5 or so, or whatever...it's nice leaving more ahead to strive for. Curiosity keeps me going as much as anything. Then the path turned downhill and I began to wonder if I was running down the wrong side of the mountain, which was kind of exciting too...but eventually, I returned to the chalet, continued downhill, and eventually made it back to my friends' house, in about 2-ish hours. A nice run. Nice to have finally polished off the mountain after several years.

The following day (Sunday), I managed about 4.5 miles, somewhat slowly. I tried to keep the altitude to a minimum.

I should mention, too, that I had easy runs on Thurs and Fri...about an hour each, just jogging.