The Trail Calls

The marina parking lot is peppered with cars giving evidence to boat owners sleeping on their boats.  The sun kisses the ocean good morning.  The sea is still.  I start my watch; it is 6:33 am.

My pace is easy and it feels good.  For this I am thankful.  I had run a simple 4 mile run a day before and it was difficult, but today, the running felt good.

I wind my way out of the marina and head toward downtown.  I will connect with a trail there and follow it to within a mile of the next county.  Turning into the alley which connects me to the trail, I run by the Farmer's Market.  One or two vendors are starting their day; on my return the place will be bustling with people.

The trail is empty.  My footfalls are the only sound I hear.  As I near the ocean's edge, I see sailboats gently rocking on the sea.  All is quiet at the park except an occasional sea gull.

In just over 4 miles I am at the trail head, "The Urb" as we call it. The trail winds the edge of town for a couple miles, yet one would never know.  The trees hide the roadway and block the sounds of any traffic.  This morning I hear only birds.  All singing praises, and I quietly join their praises by thanking God for such a beautiful run in such a beautiful place.

The deserted trail, lost in nature is exactly what I need.  Life has been exceptionally crazy, many stresses, and this deserted trail along with my alone time with God is the salve I craved.  No one calling, no one needing my attention, no one asking me anything; with each step I was unwinding.  There are footfalls and birds singing and me.

Shade is plentiful with small sun streams reaching the forest floor.  I am in awe of the beauty.  The trail parallels the ocean and when the trees part I am given the most incredible vistas of an endless ocean.  

I have met only 3 runners this morning, and one was approaching me.  In the farthest part of the trail, I realize my friend Joy is running toward me!  We stop for a minute or two and catch up as quickly as we can.  Injury has kept her away and our running group misses her so.  With a hug, we part ways.

A mile later I have reached 10 miles and turn around to head back into town.  God and I talk; I feel better.  It never ceases to amaze me how much better I feel.  The verse from Matthew comes to mind, "Come to Me all who are burden and heavy laden and I will give you rest."  After running 10 miles I feel rested.

Something up ahead catches my eye.  It is a deer, facing me, and it is standing in the middle of the trail.  I kick my feet in hopes the noise will scare it off.  No such luck.  The deer looks to be about a year old and I wonder if I've got the age right or if mama is hiding around the corner.   The deer isn't moving and I slow my pace and make louder noises.  She isn't scared, but rather, lowers her head and scrapes her hoof in the dirt.

Oh no.

I stop; very well aware she is standing her ground and not going to move.  I know she is not old enough to have babies so I wonder if she is trying to let mama know how brave she is.    Finally she raises her head and stares at me again.  With a jerk to the left she begins to buck her way off the trail and into the brush.  Whew.  I prayed mama wasn't near by.

Mile 14 chirps on my watch and I recognize my friends Dawn and Jackie coming toward me on the trail.  We pause our watches and all talk at once.  Our laughter is caught in the branches of the forest.  Big, long hugs are given and we continue on each in our own direction.

As I leave the forest, I know the hottest part of the course is in the final 4 miles.  I remind myself to run this mile and nothing more.  I feel good and my pace is strong.  Along the water people have started their weekend; they are milling around the park, lazily walking with coffee in hand.  They are loving the ocean view.

The final hill awaits on South Bay Trail and I take it slow and steady.  Shade dots the trail giving relief along the way.  The Farmer's Market is now in full swing with vendors selling their wares and food cooking on the grills.  Surprisingly it smells good - nothing usually smells good at 18 miles.  I turn and head back to the marina.

With a final mile to go, I realize even though I am tired, my solo run has cleared my head.  My legs are heavy, my heart is light.  With my car in sight, my watch chirps.  20 miles of solitary alone time has given me exactly what I needed, yet I miss the high fives from my friends that we always give when the long miles are completed.

Chocolate milk is on ice waiting for me in my trunk.  I lean against my car enjoying ever single ounce of it.  It's been 20 miles since I'd been at my car and I feel more rested than when I had started.  There is something rejuvenating about the created being among creation.  

The trail gave me more than I ever thought it could.  And it silently waits until next time.  Next time when I need to hear the birds sing and my footfalls quietly echo in the branches.

The Rain

My tires cause the puddle to spray up and over the side of my car.  Several times through the night the rain fell with such intensity the sound of it hitting the skylight woke me.  Now the rain fell in a heavy mist; the mist so thick it concealed the stoplight ahead as if it were enshrouded with an early September fog.
 
The roads were quiet.  I was greeted by only a handful of cars as I made my way into town.  Turning down the parkway, I look for my friends as they were running more miles than I would and I knew this road was to be a  part of their route.  A short time later, I see the glow of their reflective rain jackets as my headlights illuminated them.  I honk and wave as I drive by.
 
Winter’s rains had swollen the creek close to overflowing.  The rushing current gave evidence to the amount of rain which had fallen.  Two deer stand huddled at the side of the creek, blending in perfectly with the naked trees and shrubs around them.  Their stance tells me they seem chilled from the rain.

I park my car up the hill and wait for my friends on a corner of downtown.  In a short time, I see them and recognize each one by their gait.  I can tell who is in the group before I can see their faces.  Brad, Pat, Arlane, Melissa and Kathy make it up the hill and meet me where I stand.  I catch their rhythm and we disappear on to the Interurban Trail.  Already running for an hour, they are wet and miserable.  I feel guilty for having dry shoes.
 
We wind our way to the edge of the ocean.  A large light shines in the distance out on the ocean, its source hidden in the misty rain.  Everyone assumes it is a boat, but no one can tell for certain.  The grey of the wet mist erases the line on the horizon separating ocean from sky; the two blend perfectly.  The ocean swallows the rain and slowly lulls the ducks on it’s waves.
 
 No one sees the puddle until its too late, the coldness taking us by surprise and we all leap, scream and splash.  I no longer have guilt or dry shoes.  I am now wholeheartedly part of the group, my initiation complete.
 
The canopy of trees does little to keep us dry.  The mist collects heavily on the tree’s branches and falls in big drops as we run underneath.  Each of our hats drip rain from the brim.  We pass time talking of Melissa’s incredibly warm trip to Texas the week before.   Each of us longing for summer and looking forward to spring arriving shortly.
 
Kathy and I turn and head back toward the city while the others forge ahead to ensure they get their mileage.  Coming off an injury, it is the first time in weeks Kathy and I run together.  We seemingly pick up right where we left off so many weeks ago.   We talk, we laugh, we make our way down the trail. 
 
The only others out in these weather conditions are fellow runners.  Each one is greeted with enthusiasm, as if we all belong to secret society of hard core endurance, or of crazy – one can’t be too sure.  Although we are soaked to the bone, the only thing we look forward to is a hot shower.

We maneuver our way through the alleyways as careful as we can to avoid the rivers of rains running through them.   It is futile and we splash through the moving water.  Our watches chirp the end of another mile and we walk the remainder few feet to the car.  Finally, it is over.
 
These are the training runs to remember.   The building of endurance comes not only in the miles but also in the conditions.  You teach your body to run further, and your mind to endure.  The sun brings heat, the clouds bring rain and we run through it all.  We may not like it, but we always appreciate it.  There are more miles to run, and we are blessed to be able to run them.  Even in the rain.