All that he could see was the other side of the mountain

I heard more than felt the rain as it came down onto the forest canopy.  The drops on the leaves were like Jimmy Cobb’s brushes on the snare drum, constant and gentle in the summer morning.  It had been raining as long as I had been awake, so the rivulets in the abandoned road bed were not a surprise.  Nor was it any shock that there was not anyone else on the trail.  Not at the head, not on the summits, and not even in the hunting cabin or whatever that thing is way up there.  Sensible people were all inside reading a novel.

Stupid people were running in kilts through three or four inches of water.  It took about 30 seconds to completely soak my shoes, which was fine.  I anticipated that and wore the correct socks.  When my glasses started to fog up, I remembered that there are some nasty chemicals in my garage that will prevent such a thing.  I should use those.  Vision is  a “nice to have” on the trail and it’s open for debate whether I see better with foggy glasses or no glasses at all.  Either way, the field of vision narrows to whatever is right in front of me.  For the most part, or until I break through the rhododendron tunnel and emerge into wild azaleas and mountain laurel.  That’s how you know you are getting up there.

There is adventure in running a trail up the side of a mountain, but that kind of adventure can get tiresome.  It’s especially tiresome when there is nothing but up.  And more upitty up.  Followed by some elevation gain.  The Old Toll Road (so named because it used to be a road for motor vehicles to which access was granted on a toll basis) is, after all, a road.  Once you gain the ridgeline, the grade settles down into a decent afternoon’s run.  What also gets left behind, however, are the dark passages through rhodendron, the lush flooring of galax, and the few remaining bright orange blossoms of the flame azalea.   Not to worry, however, since the return trip via an abandoned rail bed offered more such sights, rain enveloping the whole scene.

I would not have seen these things if I had not been on the mountain this morning.  I would not have been on the mountain had I not been training for a marathon.  Otherwise, I would have joined the sensible people in reading my book.  Surely having the marathon out there is a good reason to get out and run.  Ultimately, however, having the nominal purpose to get out the door is a good reason to sign up for the marathon.  If a run like today’s did not stand on it’s own merits, there would be no purpose in running.