On the drive from the trainstation to where we would be staying, we passed a couple of trails marked for walking and I deemed this a fantastic opportunity to bring up a question that had been on my mind since we had first been in contact: "Are there trails around here I could use for running?", I asked. "Trails for running?", Caroline, our lovely host replied, "Wherever you see a path, road, trail, olive grove, or whatever, you are welcome to run or hike." My jaw nearly hit the floor. Let me paint a picture for you: Town, olive grove for kilometer after kilometer, town, more olive groves, top of a mountain, olive groves, olive groves, town. That is pretty much what can be seen from any decent vantage point in the area. Which means, that it is permissable for me to run ANYWHERE. There are no barbed-wire fences dividing olive grove from olive grove, no bitter farmers biting at the bit to boot you off their land. There are just vast tracks of land to be explored.
If that is not enough to appeal to all runners, consider this: if, during a run, one grows fatigued and doesn't have a Clifbar or the likes handy, they can quickly grab an olive for nourishment, maybe a fig better suits their taste, perhaps a pomegranate will provide proper refreshment, or maybe they just want to add some life to their water with a fresh squeezed lemon. Either way, everywhere you go you find yourself surrounded by tasty treats.
I am throughly enjoying my surroundings, with the liberty to take any turn I'd like as long as I'm willing to run up a mountain to figure out where, in relation to me, the little white village is situated the groves. The never-ending hills are proving to be a fantastic training ground for the race I'll be running on the 25th to the south of Granada.