In St Gallen

It was raining in St Gallen. I was advised to walk uphill, climb dozens of steps for a three lake run.

When I reached the top it seemed not as a hilltop but as if another level of land. Another floor up. A rolling meadow with homes, lakes, and ribbons of pathways for hiking. Maybe giants lurked here. Or perhaps some strange creatures came out at night. I found this level fascinating.

St. Gallen stretched below me and beyond was endless farmland. The skies were shrouded in clouds and fog- I am sure a clear day would see magnificent mountain scenery.

The lakes weren’t very big at all unless I found the wrong ones, but it was easy to go on for miles through the hiking paths marked in blue and red squares.

But it was cold and rainy. Other than the occasional determined dog walker, there was no one. Finally a runner waved to me and she was gone in a flash. Indeed a mysterious place. Maybe she didn’t exist at all.

I made my way back to the hotel, cold and wet, I finished the run on a treadmill, the gym in itself mostly empty with very serious people going about their morning routine.