FEB-B-3
THE LONG WINTER WEEKEND IN SNOWY DERWOOD
BETWEEN VALENTINE’S DAY AND
PRESIDENT’S DAY
(GEORGE WASHINGTON’S BIRTHDAY)
WITH A RETURN TO RUNNING
AGAINST ALL ODDS
February 14—15, 2003
I have managed to get out and run—with difficulty since it is not under the best of circumstances, and it is in the nadir of the running year calendar, but I have also made a few calculations of my own and realize that I am five weeks away from the first marathon of my year, and that one very close by in the second DC Marathon’s running, and only four weeks later is the 108th running of the Boston, with the Cherry Blossom Ten Miler (a special event this year) splitting the difference between them at April 6. So, I have urgent reasons to get back on the run.
At the same time there is a conspiracy of elements all militating against my running, starting with the weather and the calendar. It is cold and icy out there, and it is also dark during the times I might try to run. I have not been to the Health and Wellness Center in over four months despite my regularly recurring dues membership not taking a holiday as I have been. It has been possible for me to find myself in almost ideal running circumstances, such as last week when I was in the balmy beautiful weather around the Sweetwater Branch Inn in downtown Gainesville. It was a perfect time and place to run and I had brought my kit to do so, and awaited, in vain, Donald’s response to be joining in the entire program of events that had been booked around him and my chance to visit with the family. No such luck.
So, I was heading toward the end of my second week without a run when I left work early on Valentine’s Day as a winter storm warning had let everyone know that it would be snowing very generously later that night and all through the long weekend. I did a few chores and also got gas to be sure my rear end in the Bronco would have enough weight to propel me up the hill of my driveway. It has been four-wheel-drive hillclimbing each day of the past weeks, but I have managed to make it each day with the elderly Bronco and I sharing in the effort to get up here in Derwood when Jim, the postman, has given up for that same length of time. I had just enough daylight to try to get out on the Needwood Bike Path, my usual running route, which I had last done while pushing a twin jogger loaded with Devin and Jordan on December 30 enroute to Florida and Cumberland.
It was slippery, with packed snow and ice where it had melted and refrozen, and it was a problem getting devices to work, like my ever-recalcitrant audiotape player. But, I persevered despite these hurdles, and ran talent of the Bike Trail to Aspen Hill—my usual eight mile course. I had deer standing all around staring at me, standing out clearly against the snow background, looking fluffed out with their wool coats standing on end to trap their insulating layer of air. But, they did not think it was worth any expenditure of excess energy in getting away from me, since I was obviously more concerned with station upright on the slippery turns of the path. I made it to the end and turned to get back just at dark, a successful return to the run, despite barriers strewn around freely to prevent theist resumption.
I awakened early on Saturday morning and set about doing chores, having had a phone conversation with the Gardener’s remodeling estimator, who is nearing the end of the totaling up—which will come to about the same numbers I had originally heard for the totals, plus the expected markup for the delay. I heard a scraping sound at my back door, and thought it might be Dave coming back for another try at negotiation, when I saw it was my neighbor from Leopold Terrace Bill, whom I had seen last weekend along with his Golden retriever Carrie as he returned from a run through my woods. I asked him if he had run the roads, and he said he never did that, but only ran the trails through the woods, staring out in my woods and running the side of the h ills along the park land. He had told me the rumors in the neighborhood had it that I was obviously a “special ops” agent, since I would disappear for weeks at item and come back with a suntan and stories of strange far away places. I said that these were true allegations, but there was nothing covert about what I did, and showed him a few pictures of the activities I had just returned from. I asked how he made it through the woods along the trees and the hillsides that blocked between here and Lake Needwood, and he said he would let me know by stopping over and we would go together.
That was this morning. In the perfect white blanket with the trees layered with snow, Bill, his wife Nat, and two Guldens and I set out on the run through the woods. I hesitated about five milliseconds before saying sure enough, and stepped back inside only so long as to get my camera. And off we went!
We were the first in the virgin woods, with the stream gurgling along, and the rocks all covered with the soft whit e blanket. In the snow everything was so quiet. The trails are not very apparent and at a few places we have to jump over the stream or ford it. But, it was a very worthwhile run and I will try to do it when I can spot landmarks as well. It is a lot more beautiful and is a personalized run without the crossing of any roads. He told me the story about the people who run Camp Olympia (the IOC lawyers told them they have to change the name from the Camp Olympics). Apparently the fellow who is the owner road horses in the Olympic Pentathlon at one time, and was a Hungarian freedom fighter, which was tipped off and escaped in 1952, while all his colleagues were hanged. He went back in a clandestine trip to retrieve one basketball player named Andrea, and she came with him to America. He taught track and field events in Georgetown for forty years, and now they have this horse camp which we had looked at to see if it could board Porter. It is less than five minutes ride by road, but also it could be a neat run through the woods to get there, crossing abroad only twice
I will have to take a few of the branches to the trails and also see the terrain without the snow cover that had softened and sanitized it, but it is clearly a wonderful place to run, not for distance, but for scenery.. They were excited about the thought that I was the one still in the Derwood house as they are contributors to the Nature Conservancy and also have in mind that this is a very precious resource to be preserved. I will go out again with them and also try again to run the woods myself when I need to do some scenic tracks and not a long and well developed distance run.
A DAY OF HISTORIC INTEREST TO MY FAMILY,
AS I AM LABELING THE EXTENSIVE PHOTO ALBUMS
WITH PICTURES OF ALLHIS NEW GREAT GRANDCHILDREN
My father died six years ago today in Grand Rapids Michigan, where he had lived all his life close to most of the children who now follow with families of their own. At Christmas time as I was in Grand Rapids to celebrate with the family, it is notable that each of my three sisters could celebrate the birth of a new grandson within the year just past, and I could add their photos and stories to the albums, along with the extensive groups of pictures of my own grandchildren: Andrew William, Kacie Elizabeth (in Gainesville) and Devin Michael and Jordan Lee (now back in San Antonio.):
Martheen’s new grandson Trinidad Jay Chambliss in Grand Rapids, MI.
Shirl’s new grandson Ryan Scott Vredevoogd in McBain MI.
Milly’s new grandson Paul Daniel VanderPloeg in Hudsonville, MI.