Ok this is steeper than I remember.

Ava and I are trail run/walking.

Right now, we're almost to the top of the steep, gravely side-path of an otherwise grassy ski slope. This local ski area in Vermont is actually where I grew up snowboarding. When I first got Ava five years ago, we'd come here a lot. I was training for the Boston Marathon at the time, and going trail running with her after work helped me knock out some miles while giving her some exercise in the process. Win-win.

Now, though, I'm huffing and puffing.

And so is she.

It's been a fair bit since we've traipsed up and down this trail together. Back when she was still a puppy-puppy, these runs were sometimes full of stress for me. Training a dog to run on-leash so they can eventually be reliably off-leash, while training for a marathon, and knowing I'd have to log back on and finish up some client work was... well, it was a lot. Especially when running into bears on the trail was a semi-regular occurrence—all while still trying to perfect the art of off-leash recall.

Cresting the top of the pitch, I move to the clearing in the grass. The breeze is rustling the already changing leaves on the trees and the setting sun is casting an alpenglow-like haze across the waving grass ahead. In a way, the bugs kind of look like a swirl of fireflies. This is actually the same spot where, as kids, my cousins and I would use walkie-talkies to radio our grandmother down at the bottom of the mountain and tell her to watch us snowboard down. Then we'd race (unofficially).

Today, I'm just glad to be here. So is Ava, I think.

And that makes me happy.

* * *

Do you ever revisit places from past chapters?

onward.

For more on this daily column, read the backstory here. And if you know someone who'd appreciate this, pass it along.