from daylight to dark

Since Christmas, there has not been a time that mud was not a big playa in trail running roun here. Of course, true trail runners relish the opportunity to play in the goop, and I am no sissy when it comes to a little splat splat action. Still, there is a thrill from running on firm but soft, dry but not dusty single track that is so therapeutic to a soul such as mine. But for now, just bring on the mud.

It was 5:30, the sun had been out all day, the north wind was hung somewhere between a breeze and occasional gusts, and I pulled on my next to the muddiest pair of trail runners, grabbed my camera and my headlamp and hit the trails. A trail that I had not traversed for a season had seen a little action during the heavy snow of this past winter, having endured a twisted and broken tree. It's always easy enough to re-rout the trail around a treefall.I love odd trees, ones that look like fierce scary monsters that come alive at night and do terrible things. I also love bright blue skies. It is medicine that I need. It keeps me alive.

An interesting rock formation on Turkey Mountain.

To my delight, there were miles of dryish trails, and if you hedged toward the rockier sections, mud was not in the equation at all. Still, the areas that are the usual slop pits did not disappoint.

Enjoying the afternoon with 3 of my friends--trees, blue sky, and the sun.

The afternoon slides away, and the sun reaches for me as if to say, "Bye....see you tomorrow!"And with a gentle sigh, she slips out of sight.


"Shoot for the moon....even if you miss, you'll be among the stars." Not sure who is credited with that saying, and it is possible I bobbled it, but I like it anyway.

Ok, I'll fess up....I played with photoshop a little on this one.

Funny how nightfall makes a muddy pond look so magical.

Odd things to see on the trail:At least there was no blood on the tongs.After running more than a mile from the Westside Y, I was running from across an open field into a slightly wooded area, and came upon this chair. Why? This was not on the edge of a fishing hole, not overlooking anything other than some scrubby trees, but I suppose it was a good place for someone to stop and take a rest. I opted to keep moving. A possible correlation between the pitch fork and rake a mile back? Hmmm....Lastly, me playing with my MyTouch camera-phone, with the help of a Princeton Yukon headlamp.