Views from the front of the cabin
I only planned to run four miles. I should mention that up front. I wanted to round up to 20 miles for the week.
I woke up early and stepped out around 5:40 a.m. Last night’s fog lingered, obscuring the sunrise. I hit the gravel road and turned right, then right again. The other day while driving back and forth from Duluth, I spied a side road, unpaved, that paralleled the highway. I figured I could run on those shady lanes and perhaps stay a bit safer than running on the shoulder of an interstate.
The air felt fresh and cool, if damp, on my skin. The ends of my hair started to drip. Rabbits ran for cover as I pounded by. I found a rhythm as I entered scene after scene of what could have been a Bob Ross painting.
Like this, only no ramshackle cabin anywhere.
All was well. I found a good turnaround point and headed back. Out of curiosity, I switched on my Garmin’s GPS. I wanted to check out how far I went. Strangely, it found me right away. I’m in the middle of nowhere, and the satellite tracked me. Alrighty. I’ve gotten faster over theses consecutive days of running. Guess I ran a little further than I planned on the front end.
I passed back through the idyllic, tree-lined road. I passed a couple of stop signs where cross streets intersected the path. Suddenly, it didn’t look familiar anymore. Wait, I thought. Where’s the highway? I can’t see it. I ran a little more. Hmm. That hill. I don’t remember it from the out trip. And this curve? Not feeling it. I ran to the end of the street. Lackson Road. Did I run too far? Did I pass the intersection for Twenty-Two Road? Ah, hubris, thy name is Susan. I gazed up the highway,hands on my hips, feeling like the biggest idiot. All was shrouded in the fine mesh of fog. The sign across the street said Wentworth. I don’t remember passing that before.
I gazed down the highway, the way I’d come. A bit risky, running on the shoulder, with traffic, in the fog. I threw up a quick prayer. This way? OK. I ran down the highway. Wisconsin DOT had built up a fine shoulder for me. I breathed a prayer of thanksgiving, because looming in the shadowy veil I saw the welcoming green rectangle announcing Twenty Two Road. Yay!
By this time, I’d run over 5 miles. When I reached the mailbox at the top of our driveway, I calculated I’d run about 5.6 miles, adding what I’d run before the magical Garmin moment and what it said now. I ran further down the red dirt road to a clump of bushes to even it up to 6 miles. Go hard or go home, right?
I had to chuckle. I got caught up in the beauty of the run and stopped paying attention to the signs. I haven’t gotten lost in a new place in awhile. But every time we’ve moved, getting lost is how I’ve learned to navigate the unfamiliar surroundings. Getting lost happens. But we don’t have to stay lost. Signs abound, if we only look.
Keep on asking, and you will receive what you ask for. Keep on seeking, and you will find. Keep on knocking, and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks, receives. Everyone who seeks, finds. And to everyone who knocks, the door will be opened. -Matthew 7:7-8