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Runner
Continued from page 13
getting to send in my registration? I never came out for a trial run — I haven’t even run more than six miles — and barely six. I kept thinking I would come to my senses, break my ankle or get hit by a town of Washington bus. You know, anything to have an excuse not to put myself through this.
But, here I am again, looking for the one mile mark.
I know the timer would be right about Caledonia Farms. I could imagine him telling me my first mile was a 10 minute one. Lands, the last time I ran this my first was completed in 6:30 — but then again, that was two years ago. I was younger, stronger and it was about 30 degrees cooler.
He said 6:48. Wow. I was impressed. I paced myself at that. I wasn’t the last one — I couldn’t be.
God, it was hot.
I plodded along. You know, runners never take tb^ time to notice how beautiful the surroundings are — especially along the Fodderstack where ground flocks in an array of pinks and whites climb nearly every drive and slope, apple blossoms fill the peripheral with white and a shimmer of pink, where every color of green is found on the horizon as trees of all descriptions bud.
I noticed all this two days ago when I drove from Washington to Flint Hill. Today, I watched the var
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