I heard from a friend I haven't seen for years over the weekend. It was great to hear from her, to hear about her life over the past 12 years or so, to reconnect, and I look forward to finding out more about what she has been up to.
We were in the navy together. The last time we spent together was the summer of 1995 in Quebec City where we worked together at the Fleet School. I haven't thought much about that summer - the last summer I spent in the navy as it turned out - for some years, but hearing from her over the weekend unleashed memories that showed up unexpectedly this morning on my morning run.
Quebec City was where I finally gave in to the coaxings of friends and took up running with them, going (over the course of six weeks), from a out-of-breath in five minutes runner to a 10-12 K every other day runner. That has stayed with me, though I am more a slow 3K in 20 minutes three times a week runner now. And as I ran with the dog this morning along the wet pavements of Glengarry, past the sheep grazing in the pasture, past the growing wheat, and around the puddles into the pink sunrise, I recalled vividly the morning runs of 15 years ago.
We lived in the Old Quarter of Old Quebec City, a fabulous place for a bunch of mid-20's naval officers. We would get up early, and run west along the road through the lower town. Up, up, up all 398 rock cliff steps of the Cap Blanc stairs we'd go until we reached the plateau where we could ease into a long run across the still dewy Plains of Abraham and back to the old city. The last leg was a pleasant downhill finish through the steep cobbled streets of vieux Quebec, the city glowing beneath us, and the St. Lawrence sparkling in the distance.
That's what I was thinking about on my run this morning.