“Take it from me: If you hear the past speaking to you, feel it tugging up your back and running its fingers up your spine, the best thing to do-the only thing-is run.”
― Lauren Oliver, Delirium
I’ve started getting up at 5am, like I used to do. I get up and I go to the gym and I spin or swim or do strength training, or run. So I was already a little tired today when I hit the trail.
Dave, due to surgery, is not in riding-bikes shape yet. We had a meeting coming up this evening so we decided to meet for a run and discuss the plan and any final details.
Since he had another meeting before he could get out to the Lunch Loop, I brought my bike and did a little 1-hour solo ride before our run. So…I was, again, tired. I was thinking maybe another 30 minutes for a run, then rest the rest of the day.
This was not to be. Dave pushed me for another hour, at least. I lost track. By the time we headed back to the TH I was almost so weary I was tripping over my feet. But it was worth it. We got ready for the meeting, we took trail pictures for Picmap, and even met up with the Hilltop Trail Crew, the leader of whom was to be our facilitator for tonight’s meeting. I took pictures and was able to give them kudos on social media.
(Later: it hit 8pm and I was too tired to function. This was a problem as I was still mid-meeting. Note to self! Next time you have to play Board Chairman- REST!)
“I am thinking about the way that life can be so slippery; the way that a twelve-year-old girl looking into the mirror to count freckles reaches out toward herself and that reflection has turned into that of a woman on her wedding day, righting her veil. And how, when that bride blinks, she reopens her eyes to see a frazzled young mother trying to get lipstick on straight for the parent/teacher conference that starts in three minutes. And how after that young woman bends down to retrieve the wild-haired doll her daughter has left on the bathroom floor, she rises up to a forty-seven-year-old, looking into the mirror to count age spots.”
― Elizabeth Berg, What We Keep
Some days I’m so busy that time just flies by and I find that if I don’t take even 30 minutes I won’t get a trail in at all.
Today I decided that since I didn’t have (or make) the chance to get out until after Trinity was home, I’d just take her with me. A storm was coming in, so as soon as she got off the bus I encouraged her to put on her running shoes and we drove over to the Lunch Loop.
We took a run around Kids Meal, racing as the storm began to blow in around us.
The rain came as we returned to the parking lot, just in time, and with enough time that we were able to go get a hot drink before picking the boys up to school.
And I’m proud that these are the kinds of kids I’m raising. “Come on, Trinity! I know you just spent an entire day at school and are probably hungry and tired and have homework and want to play, but let’s go for a quick run, and get a little muddy and a lot of cold, but we’ll be together and watch a storm come in off the cliffs and blow our hair and it will be a great time!” and she’s like, “Sounds fun.”
The trails haven’t handled the rain very well lately.
A little trail repair that the BLM did a while back. Looks effective, but doesn’t lessen the challenge of going through the wash! All smiles, even though you can see the storm clouds brewing behind us!
“I want to say something so embarrassing about September that even the leaves start blushing and turning red.”
― Jarod Kintz, I Want Two apply for a job at our country’s largest funeral home, and then wear a suit and noose to the job interview.
“He would have told her – he would have said, it matters not if you are here or there, for I see you before me every moment. I see you in the light of the water, in the swaying of the young trees in the spring wind. I see you in the shadows of the great oaks, I hear your voice in the cry of the owl at night. You are the blood in my veins, and the beating of my heart. You are my first waking thought, and my last sigh before sleeping. You are – you are bone of my bone, and breath of my breath.”
― Juliet Marillier, Daughter of the Forest
It rained last night and the clouds were clinging to the cliffs of the Colorado National Monument. So we did what Erickson’s do at times like this: we threw the kids in the Jeep, got a drink and a treat, and drove up.
We stopped at Cold Shivers to check out the view and the echoes. We drove around to Red Canyon and hiked down to the drainage. We drove all the way across the Monument before returning home. It felt luxurious.