I love this city and all the quirky things we do. I've never thought twice about the inherent weirdness of people running up and down every hill they could find—growing up in Strathmore, I looked forward to seeing the runners doing their thing.
As a runner myself at the time, I really couldn't think of an activity more liberating or enjoyable. Pair that with the beautiful views up on the hill and I thought it was magic. I chose this poem because it reminded me of these feelings, and it created this picture in my head immediately.
The absurdity of the literal image was too much to pass on—I really enjoyed the way this poem made me feel and laugh.
The Mountain Goat Run
en route to the reservoir
was led by satyrs.
