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Changing trains in Landquart, my last switch before arriving in Davos, I’m uncertain which track I want. I look around me, and realize everyone looks like a runner. They’re moving towards platform 2. I follow and hop on the train. Salomon, Inov8, Nathan and Patagonia. I don’t even bother to check the destination. Davos is

Starting off on a long, hard run is a bit like being handed a book to read without a cover or title. As the pages unfold, you come to find out what each successive chapter has in store for you. Misery? Elation? New friends, wild animals, injury, dramatic alpine scenery rarely glimpsed by others? The

21.1 km, “28 years of success” according to the website, 2500 registered runners, arrival at 2800m and a breathtaking view all along: that’s the Aletsch half-marathon. I’ve been training for this not because I wanted to finish in good time, but because I wanted to be able to take advantage of the view instead of

I’ve admired Dan and Janine’s Patitucci’s photography for years. Their stunning photos seem to grace every magazine I read and every catalog through which I thumb. In fact, I still have a page torn from a magazine from when I first incorporated Run the Alps. It’s a beautiful image of running in the Alps, and the

Postcard spotted in a Champéry shop: Il n’y a qu’un seul bon chemin, et c’est le tien! Translation: There’s only good path, and it’s yours. It’s a syrupy cliché, for sure, and any other time, I would have dismissed it out of hand. But, like a lot of cliches, there’s truth underneath the worn surface.