I’d been looking forward to Saturday and Sunday morning trail runs while we camped in our motorhome just north of Lansing. It felt like the night before a race as I made sure I had everything I could possibly need.
But the RV wouldn’t even start. Dead battery.
And so began this less-than-perfect weekend. We called our insurance company, which sent a technician to give us a jump and we were able to leave our driveway.
We finally arrived at our campsite two hours later, built a fire and started to make s’mores when it started raining.
I heard rain on and off all night, so I wasn’t sure what to expect when I headed out for my morning run. Things were quiet as I walked, then ran a half mile or so to the now-familiar Sleepy Hollow State Park trail head.
I ran on wet grass and muddy trails, my trail shoes making a satisfying squish-squish sound. It was early but already light out as I entered the first loop, turned left where I planned to run a couple of miles before turning around and heading back.
I dodged overgrown bushes and tried to stay clear of the ever-present poison ivy, the previous day’s emotional yuck quickly fading.
Then I saw it. A wanna-be pond overtaking the trail, no evident path around. No problem, I told myself and headed back to whence I came and ran toward the other end of the trail.
And there it was: another pond-like puddle blocking my way not a quarter mile in.
This is where I questioned my resolve. Was it worth plowing through and pressing on?
I chose dry feet, even as I worried this meant I wasn’t really ready to call myself a trail runner.
I headed back to the road a bit deflated before remembering I’d seen signage for a triathlon by the lake. And there they were. Runners. Triathletes, sure, but my people. The temperature was in the 40s and dozens of them were getting gear ready, checking on bike tires and walking to the all-important bathroom.
I didn’t see anyone I knew, but I felt the kinship nonetheless. They didn’t know anything about me. They didn’t know whether I ran through the puddles or ran straight back to the comparatively dry road. They just saw someone running, smiled, gave me head nods and waved just the same.
I guess I’ll stick with the label.
I did have some time to plan the coming week’s meals, using my trusty method:
- Meatloaf, mashed potatoes, corn, cornbread (we use Jiffy mix)
- Chicken Cacciatore served over noodles, rolls
- Spanish rice (with tomatoes, green peppers and onions), garlic toast. Here’s a similar recipe
- Stuffed manicotti, green salad, garlic bread. Here’s a similar recipe
- Bacon-lettuce-tomato sandwiches, chips, fruit salad
How was your running weekend? Do you trail run?