I stood at the Hamsterly Beach end of Elk Lake, the cool air stirring old memories as I prepared to run the loop I once knew by heart. This 10-kilometer trail had been my sanctuary, a place where I trained hard—three laps a week—chasing dreams of ultra distances. Letting faster runners pass, I paused at the disabled fisherman’s dock, remembering the quiet moments I used to steal here between laps. The trail had changed—some new curves, a bit of reshaping—but the spirit of it remained, echoing with every step I took. As I followed the little group ahead, it felt like I was retracing the footprints of a younger version of myself.
