Solo run clockwise on a newly scoped out route, Ms.J did an anti-clockwise variant of the route.
One of my last runs in France takes me along the ridge above Cordes-sur-Ciel, following a route that Norma and I first explored together on foot before I turned it into another solo Jackal adventure.
Up on the ridge I discover the local parachute-drop field, complete with windsock, and start wondering why the remarkably predictable air around here makes hot-air balloons and parachutes possible—quite unlike the blustery skies back home.
I call the episode Tierra Incognita, a little linguistic wander through Latin, Spanish, Valencian and the other Mediterranean languages, while running into early-morning strangers, including a drone pilot who agrees that drones make great video but terrible audio—basically a hornet trapped in a Coke can.
My Strava map becomes my safety net as I negotiate farm tracks, blind corners, barking dogs and the occasional mysterious road, determined to complete the full five-mile loop rather than take the easy escape routes.
And somewhere between the sunrise, the dogs, the porridge burp and my rendezvous plan with Norma at the bamboos, I’m reminded that this is exactly why I run: a little exercise, a little exploration, and a lot of Tierra Incognita.
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