3 miles
In Westport visiting the family. I peeled out for a quick run in the damp, foggy weather up Charlotte White road. Its good to be back, even under less than ideal circumstances (death in the family). Everything is wet. Moss covers the trees, the ground on the roadside is spongy, the brook I pass over is swollen above its banks and my jacket is soon covered with condensation.
12/28/12, day four
6 miles
“May your trails be crooked, winding, lonesome, dangerous, leading to the most amazing view." Edward Abbey. I love the winding roads of this old town, and one of the most crooked of them is Drift road. You have to be on the alert running here, for there are no shoulders and quite a few blind turns. I run down to Hix Bridge and take in the sweeping views of the Westport River, watching the tide roll back to the sea.
12/29/12, day five
2 miles
Actually ran five on the trails at Weetamoo Woods, but I used up my five mile day already. I should rename this Yatzee running. Sleet forced me into a early retreat when I realized I had forgotten my hat at the house.
12/30/12, day six
7 miles
Snow! At least five inches, the heavy kind that clings to every branch. Ran past Hix Bridge to the the vineyards and back in my trusty Yak tracks. On my way back, a plow truck stopped alongside me, the window rolls down and a man with a long white beard and a giant pirate earring eyes me over. "There aint no school bus today, sunny, its Sunday" "Oh, I'm running" I say "What? G-d dammit, why? Who are you running from?"Awkward grin and forced chuckle from me. "Well, don't eat the yellow snow" he yells as he pulls away. Ah, thus speaks ancient Yankee wisdom.
12/30/12, day six
7 miles
Snow! At least five inches, the heavy kind that clings to every branch. Ran past Hix Bridge to the the vineyards and back in my trusty Yak tracks. On my way back, a plow truck stopped alongside me, the window rolls down and a man with a long white beard and a giant pirate earring eyes me over. "There aint no school bus today, sunny, its Sunday" "Oh, I'm running" I say "What? G-d dammit, why? Who are you running from?"Awkward grin and forced chuckle from me. "Well, don't eat the yellow snow" he yells as he pulls away. Ah, thus speaks ancient Yankee wisdom.
Now you only have 1, 8, 9, 10, 11, and 12 mile runs left for the rest of the week! Those don't sound as fun as the fours and fives. Good luck!
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