Metacomet Trail seemed appropriate today, and the T-Ville section from Penwood north (and back) was running in my mind.  4.6-miles total, excellent day.

Another cold day, mid-twenties and windy when we began (Wuzzam and I).  Took a tour from Route 190 at the end of Sodom Road in Shenipsit, and turned around at Parker Road, within the forest.  Good for a couple minutes over 2-hours, and 8.4-miles.

Pretty cold and windy day, but sunny enough to complete a 4.6-mile loop in McLean Reservation.

Pretty nice day, high 30's and sunny.  Drove out to McLean Reservation after work to work my way through 3.6-miles of beautiful trail running.

THE BIRTH OF THE FOOL

(from the archives, 2000)

Often I find myself standing outside a crowd silently present yet somewhere else.  I feel like I am no part of the equation.  It isn't anyone's fault for "making" me feel this way.  There are just moments when I don’t feel comfortable in a group.

I think it goes back to when I was a youngster growing up and not really having any others close by to play with.  During those times I was mostly alone, and grew comfortable with it.

I submersed myself in books, becoming the central character in whatever I was reading.  My meager experiences were built upon those I would read about, sharing the adventure.  These lapses of reality still sift through my life.

To escape I also learned to wander into the woods to listen to the silence, or to fish, or just to watch the water move slowly downstream.  Stonewalls appearing out of nowhere filled me with joy as I wondered what the land looked like a hundred years prior, a thousand years prior…

I learned to appreciate simplistic things.  I became fascinated with trails cut into the forest by who knows who, and when.  I started spending hour upon hour looking at maps, trying to piece together links from spot to spot along trails I felt only I knew about.  I learned patience.  I learned to be in a lack of hurry.  I lost most sense of urgency.

I can look back and see now that it wasn't any accident that I tended to wander towards trail running, after all, where else do you find yourself completely alone for hours on end?  Day after day of running loops and out and backs along the same different piece of rugged New England trails.  Where else could I have separated myself from others so often and have it be acceptable behavior?  Where else could I feel so at ease?

The questions that remain are questions that dog me every day.  Did I discover trail running or it me?  Did I have a choice at any of life's intersections to head in another direction?  Was it decided long ago that I would spend long hours on forest trails and be happy and content doing it?

I am content with the way things worked out.  The simplicity of my youth has carried on into my middle years.  I consider myself blessed to get so much enjoyment out of the forest, out of life.  The ability to entertain myself stems from way back, and for those years wandering alone through pastures on cow paths and along the edge of the tree-lined fields I am thankful.  For me, to run on trails is cyclic, like nature itself.  I am not running from anything but in one big loop that keeps repeating over and over until I am back at my beginnings.

Whether it was wandering alone as a child in the Berkshires or as an adult running the linked paths of past generations, I learned about nature and I learned a lot about me.  I learned how to clear my head if needed and I learned how to lighten my heart when it was heavy.  I learned to daydream.  I felt ideas flow through me uninterrupted, too many to ever bloom.  I found solitude and I found friends.  Best of all I found acceptance.  No matter what the situation, I always feel comfortable and a part of the whole big world when surrounded by forest.  I used to wish I felt as comfortable in a room filled with people, but that has faded away gradually through the years as I have begun to understand myself more.

It took a while but I can understand that each of us deals with the same basic issues, they are just presented differently.  I allowed myself the indulgence of taking the time I need in the woods exploring nature and myself.  I understand the duality of it being acceptable to be silent in a room filled with people yet thunderous alone on a mountain top.  The fork in the trail leading to the mountain is the path I have chosen at this point in life, but I am working on building the confidence for the other.

February 23, 2000

Another addition of music for 2017...

Here is effort #5, Final Solution.

On this day, February 28th, in 2002, I spent the day snowshoing in Dubuque State Forest, Hawley.  More Old Photograph time....

The Kiln from 15-years ago.

 Tippi loved the winter.

Running on the Metacomet yesterday was so enjoyable, I went back today after work.  3.5-miles of bliss.

Head-Cold or not, I got to the Metacomet today for a 3-mile run.  It felt fantastic, even though it was about 30 or so degrees cooler than yesterday (but still pretty darn warm for February).

Another very warm February day, high 60's at least.  Still struggling with a head-cold, but I managed around 3.3-miles on the road.

We hit mid '60's temperature again today, we've had a run of them.  3-miles along Main Street.

February of 1997 was the 3rd Moby Dick event on Mount Greylock.  The Old Goat was a regular participant during this time frame.

The Old Goat climbing a very cold, frozen Greylock in 1997

Normally around this time in February, we would hold the Greylock Covered Bridge and Hoxie-Thunderbolt Snowshoe Races.  This was the Farmer, ten-years ago in 2007.

And, from old gps data, I snowshoed around the Moody Spring course on this day (February 22nd) in 2007 - ten-years ago, most likely getting the course ready for a race?

Way back twenty years, 1997, we took a walk at the Laurel Sanctuary on Hill Street in Suffield.  DLV and our old spaniel Dusty.

Jogged into work (Holiday for us);  it's been a really long time since I've done this.  Wasn't bad, actually....  5.5-miles.