Cloud Hidden Whereabouts Unknown
Today's title is borrowed from an old Alan Watts book that came to mind during todays run. It is now a little after 10 pm and I'm turning in early so as not to be too wiped out when I get up at 5am tomorrow morning to trek down to Stone Harbor to run the 10k. But this mornings run was the most mystical I've ever had, so I want to get it on the record.
The kids and I went to my mom's last night and returned this evening. This morning I had a 20 miler mapped out that took me through Harriman State Park (Rockland County NY) in a big loop. I took off as planned around 7:30 and took in the cool, overcast morning. Harriman State Park, at over 46,000 acres, takes in a large swath of the Ramapo mountains and is mostly wooded area with alot of lakes. Running to HSP from my mom's is basically 5 or 6 miles of steady uphill, and on the way up I saw the tops of the mountains shrouded by low-hanging clouds. By the time I got to the park and was running by Lake Welch I had hit cloud level and was surrounded in fog. Mile 7 had me going by St. Johns in the Wilderness, an old stone church, and there was a steady drizzle. From there is was a left on to Lake Welch Drive and about a mile and a half down that road to where I was supposed to turn left on a cutoff that would take me back down to Call Hollow Road and more familiar terrain.
By this time it was total solitude on a road flanked by lush forest. A quiet world of greens and greys where I saw hawks, wild turkey, deer, woodchuck, and the occasional car and cyclist. Kept running farther down the road until my state of wet serenity was interrupted by the realization that I had come up on Lake Sebago. There are numerous lakes throughout HSP, and while my geography of the park is very rusty, I knew that if this were Lake Sebago then I was on the road to Sloatsburg, which as a kid we had always viewed as the beginning of West Virginia. I had clearly missed my connecting road.
The drizzle was now rain, and the pastoral woods were now a long expanse of trees that were standing between me and home. There were two options, plod ahead through the unknown or turn around. Neither was particularly appealing but the only real choice was the latter, which would cut my losses. Now I felt wet and miserable as I started to slowly come back into progressively more familiar terrain. As I again passed Lake Welch and headed back downhill the fog again lifted. By now I had run about 16 miles and the long descent proceeded to pound my legs into jelly. I told myself to just let it go. "Let it go" I repeated, first as self talk, then audibly, and then louder until it got to the volume of a primal scream. My legs responded, on their own, to where I was running 5k pace. Not an uncontrolled down the hill charge but in racing form, with a cathartic feeling pulsing through my upper body.
As the road leveled off so did my pace. There was a strange peace over the last few miles back into the "lowlands," with subdivisions and dry pavement and a warm breeze gently blowing in my face. I felt flush with the exuberence of having been to the mountaintop in a Mosaic or Kerouacian fashion. For the second time in a week I used a run to jettison a whole lot of junk I'd been carrying with me.
I saw no need to take a watch with me when I left at around 7:45. It was almost 11 when I returned. I don't feel like gmapping it so conservatively I'll call it 22 miles. Little longer than I wanted to go, but an experience like I've never had running before.
A breakfast of bacon, eggs, toast, coffee, etc. was waiting. A little cold due to my delayed return but delicious in a way you need to run 22 miles in order to appreciate. Yay Mom!
The kids and I went to my mom's last night and returned this evening. This morning I had a 20 miler mapped out that took me through Harriman State Park (Rockland County NY) in a big loop. I took off as planned around 7:30 and took in the cool, overcast morning. Harriman State Park, at over 46,000 acres, takes in a large swath of the Ramapo mountains and is mostly wooded area with alot of lakes. Running to HSP from my mom's is basically 5 or 6 miles of steady uphill, and on the way up I saw the tops of the mountains shrouded by low-hanging clouds. By the time I got to the park and was running by Lake Welch I had hit cloud level and was surrounded in fog. Mile 7 had me going by St. Johns in the Wilderness, an old stone church, and there was a steady drizzle. From there is was a left on to Lake Welch Drive and about a mile and a half down that road to where I was supposed to turn left on a cutoff that would take me back down to Call Hollow Road and more familiar terrain.
By this time it was total solitude on a road flanked by lush forest. A quiet world of greens and greys where I saw hawks, wild turkey, deer, woodchuck, and the occasional car and cyclist. Kept running farther down the road until my state of wet serenity was interrupted by the realization that I had come up on Lake Sebago. There are numerous lakes throughout HSP, and while my geography of the park is very rusty, I knew that if this were Lake Sebago then I was on the road to Sloatsburg, which as a kid we had always viewed as the beginning of West Virginia. I had clearly missed my connecting road.
The drizzle was now rain, and the pastoral woods were now a long expanse of trees that were standing between me and home. There were two options, plod ahead through the unknown or turn around. Neither was particularly appealing but the only real choice was the latter, which would cut my losses. Now I felt wet and miserable as I started to slowly come back into progressively more familiar terrain. As I again passed Lake Welch and headed back downhill the fog again lifted. By now I had run about 16 miles and the long descent proceeded to pound my legs into jelly. I told myself to just let it go. "Let it go" I repeated, first as self talk, then audibly, and then louder until it got to the volume of a primal scream. My legs responded, on their own, to where I was running 5k pace. Not an uncontrolled down the hill charge but in racing form, with a cathartic feeling pulsing through my upper body.
As the road leveled off so did my pace. There was a strange peace over the last few miles back into the "lowlands," with subdivisions and dry pavement and a warm breeze gently blowing in my face. I felt flush with the exuberence of having been to the mountaintop in a Mosaic or Kerouacian fashion. For the second time in a week I used a run to jettison a whole lot of junk I'd been carrying with me.
I saw no need to take a watch with me when I left at around 7:45. It was almost 11 when I returned. I don't feel like gmapping it so conservatively I'll call it 22 miles. Little longer than I wanted to go, but an experience like I've never had running before.
A breakfast of bacon, eggs, toast, coffee, etc. was waiting. A little cold due to my delayed return but delicious in a way you need to run 22 miles in order to appreciate. Yay Mom!
posted by seebo | 10:25 PM
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