It was something less of an inferno this morning as ran up South Mountain. I was only mostly blinded by the sweat that mingled with the dust and then oozed into my eyes. My ankle was hardly twisted as I leapt up the rocks. My lungs burned. I may have forgotten about the cigarettes I smoked last weekend, but they had not. But then I came upon an area where thousands of years of water had carved a half-bowl into the rock. It was here, with hands clenched into fists and arms outstretched, that I ran along the curve pretending to be The Hulk. It is even more fun running down the mountain, because then I can bound from rock to rock, letting my momentum carry me down the path and hope that it doesn't carry me right over the edge.

I'm not a big Hulk fan. And after seeing the movie, this is still true.

But it does look like fun.