Pewaukee High School

Run time: 57:44.5 + 1-lap kick

Last trip of the year, first real winter trip. It got cold in Idaho last month, and there was snow, but it still felt like late fall. It is the early darkness that seems so stark this week.

The photos do not do it justice, because the i-phone camera really illuminates the murk. I got to the track around 4:30, and by 4:32 it felt like midnight. It was cold and windy, which did not help. I ran the bleacher stairs, which was fine because they were solid and dry.

This was a high-end school and a really nice facility. There was quite of bit of vehicle drop-off activity at the gym, but no one on the track. And no locked gates!

The drive around the horn from Grand Rapids to Chicago was quick and uneventful. Traffic was not too back through Chicago either. I got to the Milwaukee area by mid-day and made 7 sales visits before 4 pm. A very productive day, and some good quality conversations with prospects.

We lost our dog the week before the trip. Our family dog of 10.5 years passed away. She used to go with me on runs at the local junior high track back in Oregon on occasion, until she could no longer keep up for the whole time. She was always raring to go. She would do fine for the first couple laps, then I would let her off the leash and she would lag. Eventually, she would cut across the field to catch up. She never just gave up and laid down, though.

Mortality tends to lend perspective to one’s existence. Wasn’t that run with Ruby more meaningful than this day’s 7 sales visits? Not necessarily more important, but more meaningful? Couldn’t I have brought her along more often? Or walked part of the time when I did, like I do now?

The answer to all 3 questions is, of course, Yes. She was an amazing dog. She was happy with whatever she got to do, with any table scraps we partitioned out to her, with any attention given to her. She always wanted more, but she was as low-maintenance as a pet could be. And we miss her terribly.

Decker Lake Park

Run time – 57:31 + 2-minute kick

This pocket of Salt Lake City might be the Mormon Slums. The hotel was right next to I-215, tucked into a barely accessible mini-neighborhood with two sketchy apartment complexes and a facility with a very high cyclone fence, the kind that inverts in a large semi-circle at the top, which, as it turns out, is the Decker Lake Youth Center. Clearly they are more concerned with deterring anyone from the outside getting in than the other way around.

I could see on the map that there was a lake, with a path around it, so even though part of it was basically a highway sidewalk, it looked relatively promising. And I was pleasantly surprised. The path was paved about 40% of the circuit, and the rest was flat and finely graveled. The lake held waterfowl and had a lot of vegetation around it. It was also a long loop, which is nice, because a short loop gets monotonous.

I walked through the apartments to get to the lake, and they reminded me of some of the complexes we used to patrol for permit violations when I drove impound tow truck in Portland back in the 90s. Cars in various states of disrepair, oil and fluid stains on the asphalt, trash all over. In one place I walked past, there was a strong stench of human waste, like there was an open sewer nearby.

And then the park was idyllic and clean, even with the disconcerting minimum security youth center bordering the trail. There were a few local residents walking or running their dogs, a family that came down to the water to feed the geese, and a couple of random loners looking for a victim to stalk.

The thing is, this is Utah. There are few places in this country that I have visited that feel safer than even the worst places in Utah. There must be nefarious activity afoot somewhere in Utah, and West Valley City is likely one of those places, but the lack of local culture gives the region a superficiality that removes extremes.

It is the natural beauty of Utah that makes it special, and you will not find that in SLC, although Decker Lake Park comes close. It really is nice that they kept this greenspace in the quadrant between the freeways. It was breezy, and it got cold when the sun went down, but it was the right temperature for a fully-clothed run. I do like to run with sweats, long-sleeve shirt, hoodie, stocking cap, and gloves. It is comforting.

And, of course, the mountains are there to tower above us with complete ambivalence. They do not care about the activities of the puny humans in the valley.

Sandcreek Middle School

Run Time: 57:29.5 + 2-minute kick

First snow run and first night run on the year. The lady at the Hertz counter in SLC wisely recommended an upgrade from a compact to an AWD mini-SUV. Woke up in the morning to 27-degree weather but did not see snow till I got up into Idaho in the afternoon.

My hotel in Idaho Falls was in the sliver of urbanity, with strip malls all around. I found a school not too far away, so I was able to get away from the traffic and run on the relative safety of the track. Lane lines are easy to follow after dark, and the surface is consistent and forgiving, which would be a good personal disposition to which one might aspire.

There are always risks. No place is completely safe. The unfamiliar can be unpredictable. The key is to perceive the surroundings keenly and accurately, to see things for what they are. This all goes for the familiar as well. We should always scan with fresh eyes. There is no upside to being complacent or asleep at the wheel.

It was good to get back into the mountainous country. Moving to Michigan has been very low elevation. I made an appointment for my old dentist in Payson to have my teeth cleaned while I was there, and the sun came out as I drove south from SLC, and the snowy mountains were a welcome sight. I drove into Santaquin afterward to pick up prescriptions my wife had called in to the Macey’s pharmacy, and I bought a container of lactose-free Ben & Jerry’s cookie dough ice cream and ate it right there in the parking lot and appreciated the mountain scenery.

And I love the drive up I-15 to Idaho Falls. There was one stretch of thick fog for about five miles, in which the temperature dropped down to sub-freezing, so we all had to slow down from 80 to 50. Weather is good for keeping one alert, but I will admit that I like driving in the spring, summer, and fall about 83% more than driving in the winter.

Kiwanis Park

Run time 57:14.5 + 2-minute kick

It was windy in Galesburg. I know – surprise, surprise. We used to live in the Eastern suburbs of Portland, near the entrance to the Columbia Gorge, and we would get the east wind a lot, but it was intermittent. These Northern Central states – they seem to have sustained perpetual wind.

Kiwanis Park is an older well-kept park that sits next to a freeway, which is a drawback, but it was close to the hotel. I ran in the grass alongside a paved path and sidewalks. There was disc golf, which seems more popular than it warrants in the region. It is always encouraging to visit an urban park that, at first glance, looks like it might have passed its peak of popularity, but then you encounter dog walkers and disc golfers and couples holding hands, and you see it remains useful.

The adjacent freeway is the main drawback. Of course, no one wants to breathe carbon monoxide, but the noise is the real shame. Everywhere I travel I see houses, sometimes nice houses, placed right next to a freeway. When my wife and I looked for houses in Grand Rapids, proximity to busy roads was a primary factor, because of the road noise. Who wants to hear traffic? I cannot imagine the oppressiveness of living next to a freeway.

You would get used to it, you might say. Why would I want that? I do not want to get used to the oppressiveness of freeway noise. I wonder what would happen if we had no freeways, if the interstate system had never been built. I suppose it would slow down the movement of goods. Would that be a bad thing? If all the roads were two- or four-lane, would we drive less? I think we would.

Perhaps we would have regional markets, where the food we ate and the goods we bought were grown or produced locally. Perhaps we would travel by train to visit relatives or to make trips to the city or to recreate. The freeway system is an avenue (so to speak) of commerce and has helped us burn more fossil fuels, but has it made our lives richer?

I am just dreaming of a world where you walk through Kiwanis Park in Galesburg, Illinois, and all you hear is the wind in the trees, and the dogs at the white house across the street barking at you while they wag their tails, and, if it is a spring afternoon, maybe a baseball bat striking a baseball, followed by cheering.

Bishop Garrigan High School

Run time: 57:12.5 + 2-minute kick

Back to the comfort of a school track. It was just across the road and through the cemetery from the hotel, so… hard to resist. A beautiful Iowa afternoon in a small town that I choose to pronounce “All-gone-a.”

There is a serene beauty to these prairie states, and you can see why indigenous tribes chose to live here until they were massacred by our forefathers. I have approximately 10% Native American blood, which means the other 90% came from European colonizers. I cling to that 10% as my true lineage. It is symbolic of the true lineage of this continent.

Some of the remains in the Algona cemetery might be those of Indian killers. Driving through these small towns in red states, one is tempted to feel soothed and comforted by the tranquil setting, but when you are merely passing through, you can avoid unveiling the political inclinations of the local inhabitants, which would likely turn tranquil to menacing. Because evil is menacing.

As I ran around the track, a mom with two small girls came out to walk some laps. She took a good long look at me, and I imagined she wondered if it was safe for her and her girls to be alone with me, and if it was safe for her to leave the smaller daughter alone at the turn of the track watching a show on her tablet. As I jogged and walked, I tried to stay in front of the mom so that she could keep an eye on me at all times, if she wanted to. It is the job of a parent to be over-cautious.

Earlier in the day, as I drove south outside of Armstrong, IA, I saw a young boy walking down the road with a fishing pole, a net, and a bucket, a sight that warmed my heart, but I could not help wondering where his guardian was, and how swift was the river he was walking to, and should he be on such an excursion alone.

I am no spiritualist. I am an agnostic, and I sincerely doubt that there is an afterlife. But if there is a spiritual realm, I hope it includes only the indigenous and their descendants. So maybe the boy was in good hands. Maybe the guardian was alongside him as he walked down the road, or maybe waiting at the river. Kind of an idealistic thought, I know.

The Cleveland Indians changed their name to the Guardians, you know. I made a remark to my wife recently that I would have chosen the Warriors over the Guardians. That might have been a rash decision, in retrospect. We could certainly use more Guardians, and fewer Warriors.

Run time: 57:10.5 + 2-minute kick

This was an ultimate rural run. I ran around the perimeter of a newly-mown corn field, mostly in the corn field itself. Turns out if you stay in the space between the rows (now rows of corn stalk stubble), you can run just fine. There is some harvest debris, but it is soft and does not impede. But first some notes on the drive.

Some businesses do not have the time, energy, or inclination to distrust their neighbors. Northern Illinois Tractor & Equipment is one of those businesses. The note on their sign – Feel free to walk in when closed – warmed my heart. My default setting is to trust – I would rather trust someone until they act in an untrustworthy manner, rather than make them earn the trust. That does not mean I do not take precautions, but it is sometimes more trouble than it’s worth to distrust. Sometimes (probably often) people lie to you and it causes no harm. Would you engage in any chicanery on the property of Northern Illinois Tractor & Equipment after reading this sign? Hell, no.

I do not remember which town in Wisconsin I was in when I saw this beautiful old church across from the gas station I stopped at, but it was a sight to see.

Just west of Dubuque I stopped at the Field of Dreams movie site and took photos, read passages of dialogue, and bought Baseballism merch. The field looks smaller in real life. The house was magnificent. They are building multiple baseball diamonds around it, probably to host tournaments.

Back to the run.

There are not many running options in New Hampton, if you are going to stick to standard options like roads, sidewalks, and trails. The corn field was right behind my hotel. There is a school not far from there, and initially I thought perhaps I could walk along the edge of the field to the school, to avoid walking along the busy main road.

When I got near the school, however, there was a field of tall vegetation that did not seem amenable to running, nor to any bi-pedal activity. So I just kept running along the perimeter of the field.

It was windy and cool, but enjoyable. There are few motor vehicles in a corn field, so no engine exhaust. At one point I ran along the freeway, but I was a good hundred feet away. I imagine the passing motorists were wondering why the hell someone was jogging in a corn field.

This is exactly the kind of low-fi running experience that exercises and nourishes the complete entity. Has anyone ever run around this, or any, corn field? Why follow the well-marked path? Why not make the path?

As I got close to the main road, a little south of the hotel, an actual dirt road greeted me. That was a little nicer to run on. When I come back here while the corn is growing, I will probably head there and do some circuits up and down the road.

A creek ran between the field and the road. I jumped deer a few times as I ran along it.

The road turned and followed the creek down to a very nice house – probably the property owner for the fields. Unless these fields are all owned by some corporation that sues small farmers who reuse seed from their own field that has been infiltrated by the corporation’s patented seed.

In my West Wing re-watch, I just watched the campaign episode in which Arnold Vinick (Alan Alda) admits in a speech at the Iowa primary that ethanol is a bad idea. I wish Vinick had won. His character was the greatest Republican presidential candidate of all time.

Only a few more runs left before the fall time change, and I will not be able to embark on a run like this when I get to the hotel, because it will be too dark. Or at least, I will not be able to get good photos.

The next morning there was frost on the car, and I met some friends at our top distributor, headquartered in this small, sleepy prairie town.

When I got back to the hotel parking lot, the best scenery of all awaited: a magnificent cloudy sunset sky.

Run Time: 57:08.5 + 2-minute kick

Wintertime is coming. Started the run in the daylight, finished it in the dark. I was a little late to the hotel, but the weather was clear, and it seems a little easier to start a run now that I alternate walking with running, especially when the first 10 minutes is walking. No trails nearby, so I just found a neighborhood and ran on the sidewalks.

Some of the streets had streetlights, some did not. Some of the streets had sidewalks, some did not. Some of the streets seemed sketchy, some did not. There have been times and places around the country when and where I wondered if I was in a safe space-time. I doubt that anyone would try anything, but I usually wear headphones, and a psychopath might take that as an opportunity because I might not hear them approaching from behind.

In this case, I was in Loves Park, Illinois, so what could be safer? Really, though, should any part of Loves Park be sketchy? Come on, municipal government. Clean it all up or change the name. Mostly, as I run down suburban streets, I wonder how many of the inhabitants lead rich, full lives, and how many lead quiet lives of desperation or worse, non-desperation. And then you see the occasional “Let’s Go, Brandon” flag and think to yourself, “Jesus.“

Running in the dark, in general, is a bad idea. I do not feel so unsure of myself now that I did the post-concussion brain-resetting work that Dr. Ziaks had me do at the beginning of the year. In that period last year after the Las Vegas incident, I had two more minor trips and stumbles that did not result in injury but were seemingly inexplicable when I examined the terrain where it felt like my toe hit a raised sidewalk lip or inconsistency and it appeared to be mostly flat or level.

Brain dysfunction is not for the faint of heart. Now that cylinders appear to be firing in the proper order, it is probably safe for me to run in the dark. I will not run on treadmills anymore. I have never fallen on a treadmill, but the prospect frightens me. Soon the time will change, and it will be dark before I get to the hotel. What then? A well-lit school track seems best.

When my daughter had swim team practice at Centennial High School 15 years ago, I would sometimes run on the track there as she swam. A few times I ran in the dark, no field lights, in the dead of winter. I would also run the bleacher stairs on that side of the track, up and down, in the dark. One time I did this, around the track, up and down the stairs, back onto the track – around and around for 45 minutes or so. At the end I would run a one-lap kick, and I would skip the stairs. What I did not know, since I had been skipping one section of track in favor of the bleacher stairs, was that a walking strip had been laid across the track for cleated football and soccer players to walk on to get to the field in the middle. Plus, it was folded up a little from wind and kids messing with it. I hit that strip going as fast as I could go at the end of a 45-minute run, in the dark, 25-degree weather, windy, and I bit it hard. It was a soft track, so there were no head injuries, but I lost a far amount of skin off my knees and calves, because I was running in shorts. It was like being taken out in the middle of the night by a silent cross-block.

Running is not necessarily a no-contact sport.

Run Time: 57:04.5 + 2-minute kick

On a blustery walk to dinner with my daughter, her husband, our granddaughter, and my wife, we passed a trail that led toward the river to the north of their house, and Kevin, my son-in-law, suggested that I could take that route on my run and get to Lake Ontario. My daughter challenged the assertion, but later I looked on the phone map and saw that it followed the river south and might be a good running route regardless.

This was my route for the final two runs of our visit to Rochester. Tracks suggested that it was primarily a bike trail, but I saw only hikers and dog walkers. It connected the lakefront district with Seneca Park and provided access to the river. On the west side of the river you could see a fancier trail, with a bridge that crossed a bend in the river.

The trail ran behind some houses in our daughter’s neighborhood, then along some larger properties with old houses that overlooked the river. It is quite possible, given the straight, raised pathway, that it was once a railroad line. Converted railroad lines make excellent running trails. It had rained a little that week, and there were some soft spots.

The first day I stayed on the main trail, which got a little ragged as I passed the north entrance to Seneca Park. The second day I took the route closer to the river bank, which took me into the Park and onto wider trails. There is a zoo in Seneca Park, which we visited with Sophie the day before we drove home to Michigan. It was pretty lame, as zoos go, but Sophie liked it.

The second day I saw a 3-point whitetail buck bounce across the trail on my way back to home base. There were deer all over in the neighborhoods, which all have wooded spaces into which wildlife could escape if needed. On Thursday, after a cool and breezy outdoor photo shoot, we dropped Kevin off at the airport – he was flying out west to hunt deer in Utah, where he had drawn a tag before the decision was made to move.

I could live in Rochester. The older houses are beautiful. The landscape is beautiful. The restaurants we visited were excellent. The beer store where I filled my new Co2 growler for the first time was more than adequate, even if I did make a poor choice of beers, and even if I forgot the Co2 canisters in Michigan. I cannot live in Rochester if I want to keep my current job, because it is not in my sales region, but I would love to be where I can walk or drive to see Sophie and Samantha whenever the inclination arises.

It is a 7+ hour drive from our house to theirs. We can also drive 11+ hours to visit our son Alex in NC. Both of those distances are shorter than the Portland to Salt Lake City drive we made a half-dozen times when we lived in Oregon and S, K, & S lived in Utah, so they are not unreasonable. Still, it would make me feel better to have the ducklings closer to the nest. Maybe this is okay, though. It will make the time we are together a little more special.

I appreciate that our kids have their own dreams, their own pursuits, and their own goals, and how much they diverge from ours. Barb and I even have a rich diversity of interests. I feel that we cover a lot of ground as a family, just as we are spread around the U.S. map – one in Oregon, two in Michigan, three in NY, and two in NC. We are divided not to conquer, but to scout and to learn the terrain, and to spread the gospel of free spirithood.

Or maybe I am just looking at it that way so that I won’t miss them all so much.

Run Time: 57:03 + 2-minute kick

With no local knowledge, I ran first on neighborhood sidewalks. I left my daughter’s house on Smugglers Lane, headed east on Eaton, then south on St Paul, then east on Pinecrest, and then turned around when my time was halfway done. The homes were old and beautiful. Lawns were well-tended. Halloween decorations were up.

Most importantly, I was reunited that morning with my Sophie. She had moved away to Rochester. It had been two months since we parted, and my broken heart had been slowly emptying, and it was filled again with one hug. My wife arrived first Friday afternoon, driving from Grand Rapids, and I flew in from Minneapolis lat that night. In the morning, I was last in bed, and Sophie saw my shoes by the couch. She remembered my shoes.

It was as if we had never parted. We picked right up where we left off. You wonder how a 1-year-old processes time and place. 2 months was nearly 10% of her life at this point. She has navigated moving to a new house and a new neighborhood, going to daycare for the first time, separating from familiar cohabitants, all while growing and expanding vocabulary and creating neural pathways.

She is a mischief-maker extraordinaire. If there is something in the vicinity that she cannot have, she will create a diversion to attract your attention, and within seconds she is climbing onto something to get the something she cannot have, smiling all the while. Sometimes she gets it, and she will smile at you and wait to be discovered, so that she can squeal with delight in an attempt to escape. Life is going to be a game to this one.

This is one reason why I run – to stay healthy, to live long, to witness my kids and my grandkids embrace the world. I know that I will leave the world a better place. I see the evidence every day.

County Ditch 52 Loop

Run time: 57:01.5 + 2-minute kick

The first run of the Fall for which I felt compelled to don the stocking cap and gloves. Comforting. Yes, body temperature does seems to rise when you run, but I prefer to feel warm before I start the run. Putting on the hoodie and the stocking cap was like crawling under a quilt, which is what I felt like doing when I got to the hotel.

Redwood Falls is a remote hamlet in Southern Minnesota. Redwood Falls Lodge is not a lodge per se but just an older motel that has been kept clean and welcoming. There were signs at each entrance reminding patrons to clean their boots before entering, with a little box of boot booties to pull on over said boots. I would say that the blue collar market is their primary customer base. It was quaint, the staff was nice, and the antler chandelier was spectacular.

There was a school with a track within walking distance, so that is where I headed. However, it was still fairly early, so there appeared to be students on the track – that is, they were on the track, they were running, and they appeared to be students. Possibly an athletic practice of some sort. So I followed a paved path to the south and planned to run alongside County Ditch 52.

A short distance down the path there was a bridge crossing the ditch. On the other side was a field. I was hoping for a walking path of some sort. The field appeared to be public or school property. What I got was much better.

It was a path, but it was a mown path that circumnavigated the outside edges of the field, with occasional curves. I can only guess it was a cross country track. It was beautiful. The grass was wide leaf and trodden down. The ground was mostly flat but uneven enough to make it interesting. At one corner there was a farmhouse with dogs that barked but wagged their tails. Three were behind a fence, but one was outside the fence and would run toward me until I got close, then would back away as he continued to bark and wag tail.

This is the running path I love. This is the running path every community needs. It was like running through the Shire. No vehicles anywhere near, trees and fields all around, barking dogs, a County Ditch, a cool breeze, and a sunset. I was crestfallen when it was over – Redwood Falls will not likely be a regular stop for me, if ever again.

That is the nature of Place, I suppose. There are so many of them, and so many are unique and sublime, and we must choose the few we can visit, usually without foreknowledge of what we will find there. And there are also many that are toxic and barren, and we must try to avoid those. The Places we settle will never be ideal, and the people we love will not always be in those Places to share it with us.

When we are alone and find a Place like the field track by County Ditch 52, or the trail along the Snake River in Twin Falls, ID, or the hundreds of places I have found in the Tillamook Forest of Oregon while hunting elk, it is our duty to soak them up and breathe them in, so that they become a part of us, and we can bring the beauty with us to share it with the people we love.