I was a bit nervous and excited as I put on my running shoes
to head out for my morning run. Some things were exactly the same as any other
day. I had my coffee and scrolled through the internet and social media. I told
my wife “I will be back soon.” (Which is not always the truth on my
runs.) We were on a vacation in Litchfield County, Connecticut and I had no
idea what my route would be or what the distance would be. I would just go out
and run until I got to a place that seemed to be a good place to turn around
and head back.
When I am away, the running is different. I almost feel like
I am cheating on my normal running routine. While I love my regular runs there
is something different when you are running in a strange place. On my usual
runs I have several routes. They vary in length and terrain but every tree,
house, and hill, is familiar. I even see the same people on the run. It screams
home with every step.
When I am away it is different. It’s a flirtatious
relationship, running somewhere else. With every step it screams a new land. It
is hard to explain, but while I traverse the area on my two feet, away from the
souvenir shops and tourist traps, I feel I understand and am connected to the
area. I seem to understand its uniqueness a little better.
There was the time when I was running on a trail near Santa Cruz,
California and it was beautiful. I can still remember a cow mooing, which
seemed just around the corner but was actually across the valley below about a
half mile away. When I returned back to the hotel I couldn’t help but notice
the large amount of dry dirt in my shoes and realized that despite the
vegetation around me this was a relatively dry place. When I hear about their
difficulty with wildfires I understand.
On a trip to Ireland I got out and ran on a country road which
eventually became narrower and narrower. The flowers along the roadside
encroaching closer to me with every step, along with the sound of the buzzing
bees. In the background the bleating of the sheep in the pasture grew louder. A
few days later I am running along the coast and the wind is howling and a light
rain starts to fall but the wind makes it feel heavy, making every simple step
difficult. This is a land of beauty but is also not a place for the meek.
On my current run in Litchfield County, CT with every step I
can feel the Yankee roots of New England. The country road I am on seems to be
one large house after another on huge plots of land. It also seems to shout
wealth, old money, New England aristocracy. The houses definitely have the architecture
of Saltbox Cape Cods and British Colonials which harken back to our nations
beginning. Some buildings have been there for over 200 years. There are many stone
walls dating back to previous generations. The stone walls are clues that years
ago this was mostly farmland. Yet as the farms moved out and houses moved in, the
rock walls remained. Mother Nature with her trees began to reclaim some of the
land.
The current residents of New England still seem to still hold on to their farming heritage and embrace the history of their land even if they are not farming it. It is like those stone walls even though the world has changed around them, the New Englander’s heritage remains.
The road is narrow, winding, and is on rolling hills. There
is very little flat ground. When I enter the forest the next day the trails are
much like my New Jersey trails, rocky and hilly. If you placed me there
blindfolded I could not name the state I was in. It does not scream New England
but does scream that it is definitely a Northeastern part of the country.
Sometimes I feel like a strange runner in a familiar place.
I just take off! I may be running down
roads that do not regularly have people running on them. The reactions of
people driving their cars indicate they are surprised to see a runner
here. I can tell by the look of the
people as I run by their house that they are wondering who that is. They know I
am no threat though. Afterall, whoever thinks of runners as dangerous? Odd yes.
Dangerous never.
Though I will say runners can be a danger to themselves.
This is especially true if we do not know where we are going. On this trip I took a turn and the road just
kept going and going, downhill for two miles. This is not really a bad thing
till you realize on your way back you will be running uphill those same two
miles. On another occasion I was in a state park in California and the trails
looked easy enough from the park map at the trailhead as well as my online map.
It was just a few trails. Yet when I started running all of a sudden, there
were trails and intersections not on the map and no trails were marked. Not
only that but there was no internet connection so my online map was useless. I
did make it back to the lot by asking for directions from a local hiker. (My
excuse was “I am from New Jersey and don’t understand your trails.”
Which I am sure convinced him that all runners from New Jersey are dolts.)
Yet even my mistakes on these runs are memorable. They are
part of my travel log. I will snap
pictures of historic sites and reminisce about the cuisine or beautiful parks.
I also store all these runs in my memory.
These are not runs with a fitness goal in mind. I slow down to take in everything around me. It
is a very personal experience and one that ties me to the location. Much more
than a car drive to a spot that helped make the location a vacation destination.
It is also just my solitary experience. It is my feet, my legs, and all my
senses, taking in the location.
I remember the views of the runs. I remember times when I
entered a normally busy tourist town early in the morning before all the
businesses opened and the streets were empty. “It is my town now.” I
thought to myself. These runs are also usually early morning so I get to watch
a location wake up to a new day.
This trip is coming to an end. Just a few more runs. I will
try a different turn today and see where it takes me. Yet like someone who
looks forward to sleeping in their own bed after a trip. I am looking forward
to running my regular runs again. There is also something comforting about
every twist and turn of a route being familiar. It will feel like home.
