Happy trails to you

Yesterday was day 2 of 3, during the first week of 16, of half marathon training. Tomorrow I do my first 4 miler.

I've decided that to start off, I'd like to run my 30 minute runs outside, and my paced runs - where I count how many miles I go - on the treadmill for now.

This means strategy and routine, which has never really been my strong suit, in order to find an appropriate place to run for at least 30 minutes before it even starts to think about getting dark.

Of course, I bet you know where I seek out a running trail – The Blue Hills. This week, I ran around Houghton's Pond for my first 30 minutes and was going to go there again yesterday, until my routine eluded me.

It was already late (because I got to work late), so I needed to start boiling some potatoes prior to the run. Or so claimed S, who was feigning starvation at that point.

So in slight desperation – I really wanted to run outside because it was humid and a great atmosphere to prepare for Orlando – I decided to take this route:

I hope you are thinking – this route must be gorgeous. Because it is. Houghton's Pond is fantastic, but Ponkapoag Pond (and adjacent bog) is breathtaking. You run through a wooded area, past a sunny beach, all on horse trails, and then – boom! – right beside you is this gleaming pond, too wide to see across, with little toads croaking all around you and bog land up ahead. It is the reward and the end of the little tunnel of trees and tiny pathways to get there.

But first, to get to the trees to get to the bog, there is street. As in the street I drive to work on. As in scary.

You see, I would never bike on the road. I secretly (oops!) hate bikers, even (especially) the good ones,
who ride on the side of a major road and beg you not to hit them. They terrify me. Maybe I should rephrase though – I love bikers as people, and I consequently do not want to hit them with my car. So therefore, instead, I hate that there are never enough bike lanes, and when they exist, I always think they should be 3 times wider (at least) than they are.

But I digress. To get to the beautiful pond, I have to run on the scary street, down the tree lined path, past the beach, to the bog.

The good news about all this is: 1) pretty pond, 2) discipline, 3) courage, 4) encroaching if not imminent empathy for bikers.