Running in Circles

So in St. George, my neighborhood was a handy loop. The largest loop was a mile and a half; if you cut over at the first loop, it was one mile. Much like I wish I knew how many times I've driven I15 from St. George to Northern Utah, I also wish I knew how many times I've run around that loop. Those who know me know that running is my thing, often my therapy. I'm pretty sure I've run somewhere around 15 miles (in one sitting), just circle after circle after circle. (Sounds crazy, I know.)

There were always the neighborhood regulars out there with me too. Teddy Sue and Bart Graff would be bundled up in their scarves, beanies, and layers of clothes, walking the circle every morning with me in the winter. And they were the perfect exercise friends - they walked the opposite direction I ran, so they said hello, a good word or two, often a shout of encouragement when they knew I was out for a long one, but never stopped me in my run (don't stop people to talk when they're running!). There was Al Behning, often out washing his cars, cleaning out the garage, mowing the lawn. If it was a night run, no matter the time (9 p.m., 1 a.m.), I was almost sure to see Mark Robertson out walking Teddy, their mutt who is loved most (some would say only) by Mark.

Last Thursday, I went to hop on the only working treadmill at our fitness center, but it wouldn't start. I've been babying my achilles tendon for a couple months after a bout with tendonitis, but when I got the error message on the treadmill, I decided that enough was enough. And I found myself running in circles again. This time on one of Duke's many forest trails. And coincidentally enough, it's one big loop. It's three miles, so I only have to run it twice, but it feels good to be out in the fresh air again, to hear my breathing (usually drowned out by the ipod) and the thud of my feet going up and down the hills. I think so much better out there, letting my thoughts run in circles with my feet.

Ah, circles.

NOTE: The above picture is said trail. I veer to the right here. Oh, and these leaves are long gone. This picture was taken in the fall.