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| Three Lakes Trail blaze image from reallygoingplaces.blogspot.com |
In the dreams single-track trail draws out in front of me. I can only see maybe 80 yards of it, and it swishes just a bit left and right. It's lined with trees too tall to measure, too numerous to count, too think to see very far. It's quiet except for my foot falls and my breath.
This vision wasn't just at night. Idle time during the day took me back there, deep in nature, far from the world.
It was as if there was a string looped around my heart, tugging, gently, but incessantly, pulling me to a place with hills and trees, lots of hills and lots of trees.
My genes, my lineage as a human, my primal instincts to run were telling me what I needed.
I needed to get lost in the woods.
Last Saturday, though I had no right to think I was fit for a 10 mile tough-ass trail run, I really didn't care.
The girl, the dog, and I headed to Morgan-Monroe State Forest and hit the Three Lakes Trail.
The run was a slog. A slow, lung rupturing, leg mutilating slog.
And it was glorious!
The sun shone bright though the wind was plenty cold. We took wrong turns, we crossed countless streams, we climbed endless hills, and we trudged our way through an ugly mile of muddy slop. (Why, oh why did I ignore that detour?)
The girl and I finished with salty faces and mud caked shoes and spattered legs. The dog seemed disappointed at stopping.
We were sore, and exhausted, and thrilled to have done it, and that it was over.
The three of us did little else for the rest of the weekend but watch movies in front of the fire... a fitting reward for surviving such a harrowing adventure.
As I think about that run, I can feel that string tugging again, calling me back.
Can you feel the string looped around your heart? Where is it pulling you?
Good running,
Doug
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