Póvoa de Lanhoso is a little town in the North of Portugal, in the heart of the Minho region, a small distance away from Gerês. I moved there when I was 11. Though I wasn’t born there, most of my family comes from there, a significant portion of my friends is there, and I spent my teen and early adult years living there or doing stuff with and for the community. So, in the end, it is mostly this place that I think of when someone asks me where I’m from.
This little run is nothing to write home about in terms of performance (not that any of my runs are, come to think of it). A few days after the Trail das Andorinhas, this was mostly a recovery run. I headed out of my grandparents’ house not really knowing where to go. I felt like avoiding the town centre, so I ran towards one of the outer villages.
I was taking a picture of this field when a tiny dog came furiously barking towards me. I’m not really afraid of tiny dogs that bark, but a lady across the street reassured me that it wouldn’t bite. Then we recognised each other and chatted a little about her daughter, who had been my scout.
I carried on running, and because before I wouldn’t normally walk up to this place for any reason, I ended up randomly running through a few places that I wasn’t familiar with.
It was the end of a sunny afternoon, the light was golden, the shadows were long and the sky was a unique shade of blue. Summer afternoons in Minho.
Then I ran back home, to be greeted by the cat and to quickly have a shower before having dinner with my friends and their dog.
Running wasn’t really my thing when I lived back here. Now, it makes me discover places, some of which I have known forever but rediscover with a new speed and a new perspective, and I quite like it.