Tim had a big test today and I was not allowed near him. When a good chunk
of my day centered on the kid, this was tough. Therefore, I was very thankful that I
could spend time in other rewarding ways. I got up, read a few entries in the
dictionary, devoured two bananas, sipped one glass of hot lemon water, and went
down Mission Blvd.
The weather report said it was the start of a warm and dry streak. But I was
greeted with a chill and a gust as I got out of the car at 8:40am at the foot
of Mission Peak. The wind was fierce as I leaned forward to ascend. Near the
summit, I had to fight the blows from the left to keep balance among the rocks.
The top was the worst and I didn't linger.
I thoroughly enjoyed downhill, however. The right foot still felt weaker but the
Merrells took care of the gravels. The quads were up for it and I let myself fly.
Halfway, as the trail was about to narrow and enter a shady woods, I climbed
over a gate to the Mill Creek Rd parallel to the trail for about a quarter of a
mile. At the next gate, I decided to continue road-running instead of returning
to the trail. I would end up somewhere on Mission Blvd. I just didn't know how
long it was going to take.
No cars came to disturb the quiet Saturday morning. Even the wind
seemed to have died down on this side of the hills. Giant oak trees lined the
tortuous path to make a corridor and only allowed the sun in at a few spots.
The few homes stood miles apart with private dirt roads leading to them. It was
as if all of a sudden I were landed in a sleepy town lost to the world.
The asphalt felt clean and bouncy and thanks to gravity, I could pound on it
effortlessly. Since Garrison Keillor convinced me that happiness was an
illusion, a natural high and a moment of tranquility have been all I ask out of
my strenuous physical exercises. I ended up running three more blissful miles
before re-entering civilization.
