Just another everyday run.

Canmore is a small-ish town, nestled in the Canadian Albertan Rockies, about 1 hr from the metropolis of Calgary. A former mining town, it is now the centre for Nordic skiing with superb facilities, catering for all abilities. Peter took me out on a course last time I was here, the thin crisp snow cripping under your skis with the magnificent backdrop of towering rocky mountains. I fell over of course, he didn’t, but that’s another story. The weather does not do much here, except get very cold in the winter and nicely warm during the summer. Not much in the way of precipitation, or sunlight depending on which side of the valley you end up living. Welcome to the Rockies.

But what it does do well is sport. It has moved on from its mining heyday, remnants still dotting the surrounding area. Hosted the skinny skiing portion of the 1988 Calgary winter Olympics It’s only a short drive from historic Lake Louise and Banff, both big winter and summer resorts. The Bow Valley is as well known for its cross country ski and snow shoe trails. In other words, it’s a year round resort, for in the summer months the visitors flock to see the glaciers (admittedly getting smaller on an annual basis) and hike or bike in the mountains. I saw proof of this when I went out for a run this morning with our two eager hounds. And saw evidence of a mysterious emerging underground movement.

I left at 0730, dark. Dogs pulling at the leads. Cold? Yes, somewhat. I thought, but not too bad. As I ran along the railway path, the massive figures of buttresses loomed out of the moonlit sky. Unbelievable. Small snowflakes were coming down from somewhere unknown, and the town was just waking up. A few trucks, a lone cyclist who greeted the two dogs dragging a warming up runner clad in longs, gloves and hat. I met a runner, which surprised me, who was looking for a bridge. Not the bridge I was looking for, I hoped, as we were headed in opposite directions. I could not help this figure find his bridge and he thought the loop I was running on was ‘quite a way’. He looked cold, and I decided that I may well be underdressed for the occasion. His thin body was under numerous items of black clothing, including a balaclava, only his eyes and nostrils on view, with white frost decorating him. Darth Vadar with dandruff lives!  So we went on, me finishing the ‘long loop’ which was not that long, but pretty stunning. Ice flows flowing along the river, dogs intrigued by them but not allowed to venture near.

I returned to the warm flat where we are staying, some 90mins later. I realised I was cold, and had frost burn on my belly and legs. Ooops. The temperature? -23C. Thought it was cold! But the underground movement? Hopefully someone can help me. For freshly painted on a wall in town were the sinister words, ‘Find the Friut’. Who knows what will happen next in the town where sport never seems to stop.

Tim