RUNNER'S HIGH

Some travelers like to move at a faster clip. Alexandra Kleeman crosses the peaks and pastures of Ireland with a group of women who take life in stride.

- Alexandra Kleeman

RUNNING UP a mountain is always difficult-never as breezy and fun as it might seem when recalled from the comfort of a couch. The same thoughts crop up again and again: How is it possible that I'm still so far from the summit? Is it this hard for everyone? Should I slow down and walk for a bit so that when I start again later I can reach the peak in a single, uninterrupted burst of grace and speed? When I run trails alone, these questions cycle through my mind until, suddenly, I find myself at the top, looking back on my worries as if from a great distance.

But as I willed myself up the steep, rock-riddled approach to Djouce Mountain-one of the more accessible peaks within Ireland's Wicklow range but, at 2,400 feet, still nothing to smirk at-I found I wasn't being overtaken by the same old questions and doubts. Instead, I was looking around me at the other members of my group.

Long-legged or petite, with cropped hair or blond braids, they were all experienced runners in their forties, fifties, and sixties who had signed up for a weeklong tour of Ireland with Run Wild Retreats. The travel company sets up all-women running trips in varied landscapes, from Moab and Banff to Bhutan and Peru. Our itinerary would take us from the drier-though still boggy-east of the country all the way to the misty mountains of the southwest, running for many hours each day. In bright-colored shorts and singlets, with wide smiles on their faces, my group cut a striking image against the slopes of brush and heather, which was deep green and on the verge of tipping into its famous purple bloom. These women made the ascent look fun-and as I listened to the steady sound of their feet against the gravel, it was easy to fold my stride into the collective rhythm.