An unexpected 9.5-10 miles at Ponkapoag

Ok, I admit it, I've been slacking again...but I HAVE been running, with 5 last Thursday, 8 on Monday with Jared, and then...a couple days of actual slacking--but only in running! I did play basketball two of the four days!

But today...today I planned to get myself out to run on my favorite trail, Ponkapoag, for a nice, solitary 8-miler. With the weight of the work world, et. al, crushing down on me the past week or two, I knew myself to be in dire need of some rejuvenation via a solitary run in the woods.

I was off, after kissing my beloved goodbye--he planned to go for a solitary hike on Mount Monadnock. Clad in thermal capri pants, an Under Armour turtleneck, hat, and gloves, I shied from bring along my thermal fleece, and began happily running the first of the two loops I planned to complete. I shambled along in a lazy manner, careening around corners, eying the skimpy-cloaked trees, now bare without their manes of leaves; I gazed at the cold, clear water of the bog sparking between the tree bones, and inhaled deeply the smell of campfire as I slowed down, passing the youth camps. I smiled at strangers, with bundled-up babies, and romping dogs (including one German Shepherd that I saw twice--both times holding tight to a green tennis ball), and inhaled the cold, brisk air. I laughed and apologized profusely to a woman with a black lab for startling her in passing. I shivered a time or two, wondering if I ought to have worn my fleece, but was committed to running fast enough to stay warm, and happy to be outside and healthy enough to know I could do it.

And then I saw it. A giant, silvery, chain-link fence, blocking my route. The good news is that this renovation appears to be a buildup of the part of the path that seems to flood at the slightest amount of rain, meaning I won't have to plan for different routes if the weather is or has been inclement. The bad news is that for now, the path is off limits--meaning a detour.

Those who know me well know that there are many things I'm good at--and many things I'm not. Sadly, keeping my sense of direction falls in the latter category.

I followed the detour at first, a little grumpy, my zen run having been thrown a loop with this detour. Still, running down an uninhabited, grassy golf course green, I decided to try to see this as an adventure.

I looped left at the bottom of the green, following the neon green flags tied to trees along the way, until suddenly...I ran out of flags. Looking at the two possible options, both uphill, I opted for the right branch. I ran up the hill, reaching the top, then immediately deciding I'd made the wrong decision, and turned around. Back at the bottom, I searched in vain again for the continuation of the green flags, then headed back up the hill. I crested the top of the hill again, and found myself at another branch. This time, I was positive. I headed back down the way I came. Luckily at the bottom I saw the woman I'd startled earlier--headed down a third path that I hadn't seen...one with neon green flags marking the trees.

I felt a little stupid, but kept on, running now with the thought that maybe one loop, if one could be made, would be sufficient. At the next detour, I could make neither heads nor tails of the detour signs, and found myself running through the golf course itself. With no trees to protect me any more, I realized I. WAS. COLD.

At the entrance to the golf course, I asked directions from a very nice woman who offered me a ride (being a goldarned athlete, I politely refused), and some directions. After having asked for directions once more, from an elderly man who continued to wave merrily at me through his car window as I motioned for him to roll the window down (Really, did he think I had an encyclopedia set hidden behind me, available for only 10 payments of $24.99??), I realized I had committed to running...the wrong direction. The fastest way to my car was the Interstate, hardly a safe place (not to mention, I think its actually illegal) for a runner, even a cold one.

It's entirely possible there was a way to get to my car from where I was, but at that point, I was tired of getting lost...and decided the best course of action was to simply head back the way I came from.

Happily, once I got back on some familiar terrain, I was able to get back to enjoying my run. The beauty of being out in the cold is that there are very few people out there with you--and those that are, are usually there for the same reasons--to enjoy the solitude, and the stark beauty of nature hibernating for the year.

I like to think of winter as a chance for nature to do what I was doing today--to rejuvenate, and to prepare for a rebirth. Today for me was a chance to rediscover some of myself, the pieces of me that are easy to lose in the mad dash that is life--but also the pieces that are really the most important to my overall health and happiness. The truth is that this is therapy, and therapy that was much needed.