Running in my neighborhood, everything is organized in
blocks and lines. The houses are
the blocks. The lines are the
curves of the edge of the street or sidewalk. The trees are organized into landscaping themes that only
the human mind could design.
The street itself is, for the most part, a smooth platform
that does not give at all when my feet hit the asphalt. Only my shoes’ rubber heel gives a
little bit to my weight.
Above me, the sky is designed, too. The trees don’t grow in the middle of
the street, so the sky is open and the sun can shine down creating a heat strip
along the street that radiates up.
When you see steam coming up off the pavement after a cool rain on a
warm day, you get the same sensation of a steam bath.
The dirt trail is just the opposite. The first thing is that the path is
like a dangerous ribbon. Roots,
rocks and little ditches cross the path at uneven and haphazard intervals. That’s why time is suspended along the
dirt trail because you’re always looking 10 feet ahead to see where you’re
going to place your next three steps.
Plenty of times toward the end of the run, I’ve caught a root or a rock
and fallen and rolled. You have to
stay awake on the trail.
Overhead, the spring’s tree canopy is beginning to block out
the light. There is an eerie green
tint to everything on the ground early in the morning when only the sky’s light
is reflecting through the leaves.
Later in the day, when the sun is shining down on the trees, the light
seems to warm up a bit.
Still, it’s get kind of spooky along the trail when you’re
running along and the only thing you hear is your own breathing. Then, a rustle of leaves or a twig snap
not to far behind you sends your head around to see what made the sound. That’s when you really trip over a
root, when you’re distracted.
If it sounds like I enjoy the dirt trail more than the
asphalt, I admit that I do. There
is a calming effect on my soul when I’m in the woods. It’s nature’s balm on modern society where the path is in
constant evolution. A tree has
fallen across the trail or water is rushing across the path after the rain the
night before. It’s constantly
changing and demands attention.
Perhaps my weekly trek into the woods is a calming therapy
to my busy work and family schedules.
It’s a little respite adventure that is never the same because the trail
is constantly in motion and is ever changing. Just to see what’s new along the path is fun. Just trying to navigate your way around
is also an adventure. It’s never
the same.
I like that.
Gotta run,
Chuck
The Vagabond Runner.
Love this.
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