Sights and Sounds

I am getting a later than planned start. It's 5:20, and although I've been up for quite a while, this is the best I could do to get myself out the cabin door and into the gloomy morning air.

Said cabin is located in Sugar Grove, Ohio. It's in the Hocking Hills region, and we're staying for the weekend with the Dancer family. These digs are pretty nifty.

Gloomy it is - more so than anticipated. I had planned the route: 3 or more 3.7-mile loops on Sponagle, Swartz Mill, Mirgon and Sugar Grove Roads to make twelve or so miles total. I had figured there would be hills, humidity, humility, and darkness, but not quite so much. And I also hadn't anticipated the fog and drizzle. And did I mention the darkness? Oh, yes, perhaps I did.

First, I have to get up the driveway. I do mean up; it's mighty steep. Now on the road, things do level out. A little. I am bumping into plenty of hills. They pretty much won't stop. Eventually, I find myself running mostly down - way down - to get to Swartz Mill Road a mile into the run.

Good thing I have the headlamp because I can't see a darn thing otherwise. The woods are deep and dark, and the fog and mist reflect my headlamp light right back at me. I do notice the occasional light emanating from a smattering of houses that are back in the woods.

At first, it's so very quiet that even that unnerves me. I do get used to it, but soon the morning crickets begin to chirp. Now it's downright noisy. But in a pleasant sort of way.

All of a sudden, something fairly large flies right across my path, directly in front of my headlamp. It startles me, and I stop. It was completely quiet as it flew by. Then another one follows it within a second or two. I look around for others but don't see any. That don't mean anything; I can't see anything anyway. As my faculties return, I begin to wonder whether they were rather small owls or large bats. I am not able to figure it out, but I'm leaning towards the bat theory.

A couple of the houses come with a barking dog. I am not threatened directly, but I do pick up a stick for self-defense, just in case.

The roads and turns are where I expect them to be. The hills are not, since I hadn't known where they would be. Suffice it to say that they're big. Big enough to put Effie to shame. Effie, by the way, is still the standard by which all hills are measured. I manage to complete one loop. I am 3.7 miles into the run, just as anticipated. I try not to look at the related time.

The second loop is better. It's getting light, and I can now begin to see where I went that first time around. The fog is becoming more patchy. And I'm moving a little faster as well. But only a little.

The third loop is faster still. Still agonizingly slow by any normal standards, but faster than the other two loops.

About two and a half miles into that final circuit, it hits me. I love this! I truly do. It's why I run.

Minor runner's high subsiding, I am back in time to start the day with the kids and grandkids. Time to hike.