The sky was gray and cloudy, but I was sure it would clear up soon, I had checked the weather report and it was not supposed to rain. 1 mile in it was pouring, and as I wiped rain from my eyes I reminded myself, this is okay, people run marathons in rain. I'm only running 7 miles today. It's going to be a great run. And I actually felt great. It was one of those runs where I settled right into a steady pace and my legs felt strong and my mind was ready to drift away.
I headed into downtown and crossed a historic covered bridge, hung a left onto Joslin Hill Rd, then a quick right onto Brook St and the extra loop. According to Map My Run, this route had a 2 mile climb at about mile 2.5, and sure enough, I found myself heading up. At this point, I was drenched, my shorts and shirt were sticking to me with some serious suction power and I felt like I had an extra 10 lbs on me trudging up the hill. But soon I was at my turn, where I was supposed to meet up with the road I had run on yesterday. Though with rain dripping into my eyes, I may or may not have paid attention to the road sign. As I continued to climb up I had a vague thought that the scenery wasn't familiar, but chalked that up to the rain.
And, it was beautiful! The clouds hung in wispy layers over the fields and hills, and the hills backed up to mountain after mountain, the colors beginning in rich forest greens, and fading into slate gray and thick clouds in the distance. I thought of peace and beauty and poetry and soon Mary Oliver and David Budbill were running along beside me, describing the landscape to me in whispery words. I ran past farms with ancient tractors, past green meadows and windy dirt driveways heading to someone's Shangri-La.
As I crested the hill and saw a busy, main road, I realized I had indeed taken a wrong turn somewhere. Oh geez. My instincts told me to turn left onto the main road, but after a quarter of a mile I realized it might be wise to do the opposite of what my gut tells me when it comes to navigation. Turning around and running the other direction on this busy road, cars whizzing past me, I was acutely aware of my wet white t-shirt. Not in a "woo-boo, Spring Break, wet t-shirt contest" kind of a way. More in the "these people driving by should not be seeing what the belly of a woman who has had 3 babies looks like with a shirt clinging to all its jiggly glory" kind of a way. And it was still pouring rain.
Here's my second directional instinct (listen up, Outward Bound folks, this could be a teachable moment): because I was on a main road, paved, with speed limit 40 mph, I felt like I would end up somewhere. I mean, roads like that don't just end up at a small dirt road, right? Now heading down the hill, I still felt great, though the couple bites of a kid's Clif bar had worn off and I was officially hungry. Soon I could see a valley below, with more houses and I was sure there would be a general store where I would stop in and give my husband an S.O.S. call. He would have to drive miles and miles to come rescue me from the far-reaches of the Mad River Valley.
Or not. Because then I saw a road sign that looked familiar. Joslin Hill Rd. And a covered bridge ahead. Wait, what? I stopped and threw my arms up in disbelief, surely alarming the locals looking out their windows, sipping morning coffee. Yep, I was pretty much in downtown Waitsfield, a mere mile away from the house we were staying at. Thanks to my inner navigational system (or luck, whatever), I had only added a few miles to my run. And it was a great run! I jogged into the driveway fully expecting my husband to be in a panic as to where I had been. But he greeted me with a nod, coffee in hand, asking me "a little wet for you?"Yep, a little wet and a lot awesome, I thought as I rode the endorphin high right to the coffeemaker.
That's one thing I love about running. It's always new. A runner is a traveler, an explorer, visiting new roads, taking in beauty, running alongside poets, and yes, occasionally getting lost. It's all part of the journey.
Exhibit A: The run I meant to do. (Isn't it a little weird how much it looks like Africa?)
Exhibit B: The run I actually did.
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