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Posts Tagged ‘Westwood Park’

Two painted turtles wait, still as the log beneath them, alert as the sun overhead, watching with one eye. Across the water rises a steady striking, a single snare drum, loud enough to move freshly fallen leaves. Sound takes form and glides above the ground, as if searching for a home. Holding steady then, braving percussion and [...]

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“It leaves you feeling hollow inside,” he said. He understands. The conversation occurred a few days ago as a friend and I discussed the frustration of injuries, especially those that come after a long period of training for a specific event, such as a marathon. He could empathize with my recent knee problem, not just [...]

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Miles apart

A great blue heron rises to the right, just off a corner of Bridge 2. My peripheral vision catches the motion, a blur of gray, but I don’t turn to look. Every bit of energy goes into what’s left of this run, less than 600 meters to the end, but with two final climbs. I [...]

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Wingtips and talons leave messages on fresh snow, like Asian brush strokes. Passing over a myriad of footprints left by man and deer and raccoons, I outrun the hikers and move away from the tracks of forest dwellers, until I’m breaking trail through ankle-deep snow. There’s a stillness here, a cleanness, as if the last [...]

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The geese talk, conversations like popcorn. Five hundred kernels. Maybe a thousand. I’ve covered more than eight miles of trails, running in snow marked by half a dozen hikers and a single set of mountain bike tracks. The wind is calm, yet the chill deepens slightly as silhouetted treetops begin to dissect the sun. In [...]

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The lake speaks, the language of early January. Extraterrestrial chatter rises beyond the trees to my left. It’s a voice seldom heard, and today I am not in a hurry. Working my way through the brush, I duck under branches and past spindly arms that snag my jacket with sharp, triangular-shaped claws. Once out of [...]

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Sleepless

Just past midnight. Time shrinks. In bed, I set down The Coolest Race on Earth, John Hanc’s book about the Antarctic Marathon. The story both inspires and frightens me. Already I’m running Saturday’s Tecumseh Trail Marathon in my mind. In the cold. Possibly through falling snow. I can envision the woods, with beech trees, the [...]

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The snow has stopped, but a biting wind continues to blow across Westwood Lake. The trails are empty, except for two mountain bikers I meet at the Big Dig. We exchange greetings and continue our separate ways. It’s good to be here, running alone in the woods. I stood in the cold earlier today, but [...]

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The quote on my wall serves as a reminder. It comes from Barry Magee, bronze medalist in the marathon during the 1960 Olympics. “Anyone can run 20 miles. It’s the next six that count.” On today’s long run I’m re-learning the truth of that statement. Leaves have held my concentration all day. Maple leaves, mostly, [...]

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Alone. Finding rhythm. Deep into Westwood. The lake looks thirsty. Dust inhabits dried mud holes. A gravelly uphill eats my pace. The singletrack traces the lake once again. A chilling breeze skims across the water’s surface. Light rain threatens to ruin the day, then stops. Closing in on the trail head brings me halfway there. Stopping [...]

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