OK… so the first place I went wrong was to break my rule of
never running on a new section of trail the first time … hike before you bike it or run it … much better to “leisurely” discover the obstacles in front of you than while careening down scree at 12 mph in the rain.
Yeah.
It’s a half hour into my morning run and I was really settling into a good cadence. The rain was softly falling through the succulent budding leaves that are just starting to emerge on the trees overhead. It’s a little chilly but the tech-layers are doin’ their job, and I’m just focusing on the feel in my quads while scanning the trail for goopy spots to avoid sliding out and pulling my adductors. It’s a typical early Spring day - with appropriate weather to match. I think the meteorological term is “yucky” for the current conditions. Oh well - Carpe Diem, rain and all….
So I’m enjoying the fluidity of the flat and gently winding virgin trail that is unrolling ahead of me. When from around a turn, I see that the trail drops off and vanishes down an undeterminably steep hill.
“WTF?!”, I think to myself and you can almost hear the cartoon-like screeching noise as I try to slow down without sliding out on the wet earth. I trot to the precipice and begin to pass over the small ridge, heading down the side of the hill - my feet gave me little notice that this was the plan; to keep moving forward.
Momentum is a nasty little thing when you need to stop quickly. And Friction was off playing cards with Common Sense, apparently - ‘cuz I was picking up speed down a hill whose trail bed was comprised of exposed smooth natural stone blocks - like nature’s slick pavement. Just not sure where the end would come, and if I would be a heaped bruised mess at the bottom of it.
“WTF?!?”, I said aloud this time - but no reply was forthcoming. “Yeah - I’m in deep shit now.“, I thought … zigzagging down the hill, trying to jump into the brush that lines the smooth (and crazy-slick) rock trailbed. Prancing like some kind of goofy circus pony, running on my toes, picking up my knees really high, trying to limit my shoes’ surface area that came in contact with the wet stone to keep from slipping and falling.
I could see the asphalt road and the trail head parking lot just ahead down the hill, so I felt a sense of assurance that the paramedics would be able to spot me quickly… I continued my rapid descent (on foot - not on my butt yet) and somehow through all this mayhem, the thought occurred to me that this section of the park must have once been a quarry about a hundred years ago… this stone looks just like the peculiar red color colonial house building stone of local historic homes that still stand in the area. I’m such a dork - only I would have this idea pass through my head as I plummetted to my certain demise.
I managed to finally jump off the side of the trail, into the mud and scrubby bushes in which were hidden several lovely little thorn bushes I recognize quite well, called Autumn Olive.
Yay me.
Everything stopped. The squishy noises I was making, the string of profanity that I had unconsciously been uttering, and all I could hear was my labored breathing, and feel my heart pounding in my throat. After one, possibly two seconds, I also began to feel the awaited sting of where the bushes scratched the 5″ of exposed leg between my capri tights and socks.
I had jumped off the trail at just about the precise location where the exposed stone went back under the earth and no longer posed a danger.
Again, yay me.
This entire panicked rampage down the hill must have lasted about 8 seconds, but that was 8 seconds longer than I wanted to spend in this predicament.
I hopped back onto terra firma and walked the several yards to the end of the trail onto the asphalt service road. Following this road back to where the parking lot is located, I passed a small clearing that was pretty strong evidence that this was, indeed, a retired quarry — and looked up the sheer rock face that was abandoned so long ago as a working stone quarry.
This isn’t usually the kind of “thrill of discovery” that I typically embrace during my run … I like finding weird colored fungii or finding a funny dirty word carved into a tree… But maybe, it’s also about discovering that every once in a while we need to come really close to falling on our proverbial asses, to appreciate everything in our lives which keeps us upright most all of the time.
Until I see you again, this is the Frugal Gourmet. I bid you peace.
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