I’ve never needed a crowd of fans, but I’ll tell you what, when those five horses just stood along the fence line, watching me run, I smiled my biggest smile and waved my biggest wave. Me watching them them watching me, the biggest and bluest sky outstretched behind, it was my own private Montana Moment that I planned to collect.
It was during these miles, I thought back on my cowboy from the Missoula Marathon. This was another fun, truly west, experience I was glad to pick up along my self-support half Rosebud to Forsyth half marathon.
My brother is in town, and I hitch a ride with him out to the next town, Rosebud, and he drops me off before going out for a day of combine work on the farm. It’s early, and other than the horses out to graze, there’s nothing but the distant sound of the Yellowstone river and the whistle of the wind as I run out of the gully and up along the high-land.
The view is everything I know and remember from a kid. The sky is endless, the smell is fresh, the road is long, and it’s just me and my soles, and few horses to cheer me on. It’s a good day to be a runner.
Groovy Girls Go………..From Small Town to Small Town