For my workout on Friday, I decided to walk the hill trail where we drove the Samurai to look for morels the day before. I planned to walk the entire trail we took in about 45 minutes. Mother was going to watch my girls. It would be time in peaceful quiet. Like a Simon and Garfunkel song.
I started out, up Dry Fork, made it to the end of the paved road, and started on the dirt path. The sun gave perfect light. I noticed a feeling of freedom coming over me. Without Ivy Pearl on my back, I felt airy.
I passed an old cabin where many families were raised. I’d love to have a place like it of our own. Something to hand down to the girls, or our grandchildren. An asset. The land up in there is triumphant. A masterpiece of the Creator. I’m hoping a little piece of what is to come.
A small white dog comes out of the trees toward me with a scowl. I slow down a bit, but let him know I’m not scared. He runs passed. I, then, notice a female Doberman with heavy teats. I wonder what such a dog would be doing back in the woods when I hear her puppies’ various grunts and squeals. I start up one of the steepest inclines I’ve ever hiked.
My legs sting with the effort, but I push myself onward. I make it to the top without stopping. I walk a few feet to catch my breath, then my heart told my legs to run. It had been years since I’ve ran. I believe I was twenty-two the last time. With my crooked spine, I’m not supposed to run, but I had to. I used to run cross country in high school. I loved running through the woods, and I loved it now. There was always something that attracted me to the primitiveness of the sport. The loneliness. I like accomplishing something without a team.
I saw ancient moss covered boulders placed on ledges maybe by an earthquake, shifting tectonic plates, or when Kentucky was covered by the ocean. I saw again the flowers. More beautiful than anything cultivated. My breath fell to a rhythm of two breaths in and two breaths out. I did not grow tired.
I ran the entire way back to mother’s. When I came off the mountain and hit the pavement of Dry Fork, a heaviness filled my lungs and threatened to slow my legs. I passed houses and trailers. People sitting on porch swings, working in gardens, watching their children play. The real world seeped back into my soul like a change of life sped up. When I got back to mom’s, I did some stretching, and with a smile entered the house refreshed.