R.I.P. My Former Self

Hope Mountain Runner.

He lived, he died, he lived, he died....

Over and over the pattern repeated.

He was a downhill hare, until that is the day he fell off Yorkshire, and a pointy piece of Whernside's limestone rock punched it's way through his kneecap. HMR slowed down somewhat after that.

He was an uphill tortoise, not averse to the effort of the uphill running grind, infact finding some kind of masochistic pleasure in it, whilst nonetheless enjoying the opportunity to look around and drink in the views afforded to him by the hills.

He doesn't know himself what kind of runner he is now, or even if he would class himself as a runner at all. After all, runners bore the socks off anyone who will listen with all their talk about times and paces and positions in races.

Your man here doesn't give a toss about stuff like that. Yes he runs, but it is where he's doing it that holds his interest more than the act of running itself. He's more likely to have a rant about politics than anything related to a run. He doesn't like posting the "look how great my life is" kind of pictures and posts that all the depressed people plaster all over Facebook because he has some empathy with the depressed people who have to look at it and think their own life must be shit.

He doesn't even know if he'll continue with this blog.

What he does know, is that on the website that he used to use to write his blogs, he met great people, forged great friendships, so does feel an inclination to carry on, it just won't be on a website that has allowed itself to be taken over by false click-bait bloggers that are nothing to do with the community that website had created.

Life goes on, time goes on, things move on. Let's see how this unfolds....