One of the greatest things about living in the mountains is that I get to enjoy them! While perusing my photographs of the past few months/years, I discovered that a large portion of them documented explorations in the hills large enough to be deemed mountains. Everything about them loudly proclaims that there is a God--for there surely is no other way something could exist that strikes the very deepest part of my soul with awe. The mountains are beautiful and I love them very much.
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Technically, not a mountain.
But this hill is hard enough to count as one. |
And, though I don't make a trip out of it as much as I should, I adore the fact that I can just go on a run in the mountains on a whim. I can start out fully intending to avoid all hills and, instead, get lost on a trail on a lovely frigid morning and find myself atop a mountain overlooking the most gorgeous view in attempt to find my way home. (Although, to be entirely honest, this seems to occur most often on runs with none other than the hilarious, adorable, and directionally challenged
Kristen Oddette.)
And O how beautiful upon the mountains were their feet!
Words cannot better describe the joy that consumes my entire being--my aching muscles, my burning lungs, my exhausted mind, and my wounded heart--when I find my feet upon the mountains. Oh, how beautiful.
And I long to return.
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