Cheddar Gorge is surprisingly similar to a lot of the touristy places in Colorado: the main attraction is nature, which brings a lot of people walking and driving around dumbfounded by the incredible natural beauty, but also lots of sporty folks, drawn in by the nearly endless sport climbing and vast trail system for walking and running.
Running to see places is great in that it combines both exercise with tourism, and one can see sights more in depth from the ground rather than from the second story of a double decker bus. Yes, I do arrive at somewhat crowded places wearing bright synthetic shirts and sweating profusely, but it also creates a nice halo of space around me at all times as most people don't like to touch visibly sweaty people.
The four of us sat in the car at the trailhead in Glencoe, questioning what to do. We watched dozens of tourists exit their tour buses, snap a few photos, and return to the bus completely soaked. Climbing was ruled out after some deliberation, so we drove to Glencoe Village for lunch, turned the car around, and decided to return to Edinburgh with our tails between our legs. Scotland's weather was simply too mean, but I'm sure that if you can get to West Scotland on a clear day, it is probably one of the most beautiful views in the world.
Some might know of the bigger feats, such as reaching the summits of the 14 peaks that rise above 8,000 meters or summiting the "Big Three" in the Alaska Range (Denali, Sultana, and Begguya, also known as McKinley, Foraker, and Hunter). But one mountaineering list I was completely unaware of, until I was standing on a summit in Scotland, is the Munros.
After the marathon, Davinia's dad took us on a small road trip all around the Lake District, with stops in Barrow-in-Furness, Kirkstone Pass, Glenridding, and, as a perfect post-marathon walk, Easedale Tarn by way of Grasmere. The rocky green hills and lakes were awesome to see, and definitely got me excited for my indefinite time here in England.