In his mind, a trail qualified as a technical run if it had substantial terrain variation, challenging rock formations, maybe large cracks and exposed roots, and quick changes in elevation. In other words, if it could answer “absolutely” to the question: Can I end up in the hospital if I’m not careful? Lou slowed his pace. The Blue Ridge Trail, especially given the weather, was fitting his definition of technical with the equivalent of a summa cum laude GPA from Yale.

Thirty minutes into the run his lungs began to burn. His nostrils flared as he worked harder to get in air. From behind and slightly to his left, he heard Cap’s footfalls landing against a garden of loose rocks, embedded in lightly packed, muddy soil. Except for a few short stretches, the pitch continued to rise. The run back, largely downhill, was going to be interesting. Lou was feeling it in his legs now, and wondering what level of runner the hotel concierge might be. This was turning into one hell of a trail.

“Follow my line,” Lou called over his shoulder. “I’ve got a good read on this section.”

“I’m with you, bro.”

It didn’t sound as if Cap was even breathing hard. No big surprise.

Awhile later, distracted by a nasty stitch that had developed in his side, Lou slipped on a gnarled root and stumbled. Before he could go down, Cap’s hand clamped on his arm and steadied him.

“Come on, buddy, we got this,” Cap said.

“Nice grab.”

They had to be nearly an hour out—the turnaround point. Lou’s body was beginning to settle down again, but the next stretch proved the most challenging yet. He sensed the lactic acid building in his muscles, and resolved to make time to do more cardio after they returned home. Around a sharp bend, they came to a series of large boulders covered in slick wet moss. Lou stopped, breathing heavily now. Even Cap seemed relieved at the brief respite.

“We climb over?” Cap asked, surveying the obstacles.

Lou checked his watch. Fifty-three minutes. He wondered if they had bitten off too much, and for the first time, thought about walking.

“Unless you want to head back,” he said. “We’re just about to where we had planned on turning.”

“We finish what we started. Just be careful.”

Using their hands, they scrambled up and over the rocks, landing in a shallow puddle at the other side that turned out to be an inch or so of mud.

First just slow down a bit, Lou thought. Just a bit.

The pitch elevated once again. Lou’s heart rate jacked up until he felt it beating in his throat. A jumble of thick, slick roots. No problem. A gauntlet of large rocks. Piece of cake. Risking a glance behind him, Lou saw that Cap was keeping pace, still running loose and within himself.

“You’re killing it!” Lou called out.