whoops, lost track!

More cardboard and newsprint than running these days, and the end is not quite in sight.

We've run a few more times since my last posting, all around the neighbourhood.   Our first "easy" run in the Annex (it's a small section of forest and trails about an eighth of a mile away from our house, and it is indeed called the Annex) was not easy; we weren't prepared for the hills.  Our first "easy" hour-long run on the main trails was not easy either: more hills.  And roots.  Our first foray of the All-American trail wasn't easy either: even more hills.

Fortunately, these hills (we are in the Sandhills region of NC) are of yielding sand and not of the sharp and steep collapsed limestone ridges back in Kansas.  Those ones pushed effort mercilessly into the lactic acid pang range no matter what: I sometimes felt the burn walking up the big hill to work.  The hills here are more forgiving.  Our second run in the Annex was much easier, with a few slightly pressed minutes here and there.  It has become imperative to decide what the run is to be and adjust the ascents accordingly.  A short and tough run: attack the hills.  This has become my default mode because I want to get the hills over with asap, but it's proving too punishing for runs even for mere hour-long runs (plus I'm a bit out of shape these days).  An easy run: small steps, hips kept weighted and balanced so that there is less work for other parts to do (I'm still figuring out how to describe this more effectively), a bit of a lean, and small quick but lazy steps, roots permitting.

There are two nestled loops marked in the Annex, and a few other unmarked trails branching off.  At first we thought these were short access points leading to nearby streets, but it turns out that there is more to the Annex than meets the eye.  We ran down one unmarked trail and then onto a larger one for five minutes or so, and we didn't get to the end of anything.  We were going around "the next bend ahead" until time constraints forced us to turn back.  Perhaps the larger trail is another loop.  It would be wonderful if there were three or so miles of trails in there, or a shortcut to another street.  Some exploration remains to be done.  This is very exciting.  Going down a path for the first time, especially if it's unmarked or uncertain, activates senses to a higher degree.  The sun becomes shinier (or the rain more torrential, the cold more biting*), smells are deeper, sounds are crisper and louder, and then, after a while, a warm euphoria sets in.  Even when I'm sort of lost and should be worried, or actually am worried, things become marvelous.  I get giddy and everything becomes top-shelf--the quaintest alley in the world, the freshest smell of sumac, the best tea, the best stationary store, even the best stone steps or canal boat.   I have many such gold-tinged memories of discoveries.

Today, discoveries are limited.  I'm unpacking familiar goods.  But I found the scotch tape I was looking for!  Two rolls!

We also walked into town yesterday...this might become a weekly routine.  It's about 3 miles away and a pleasant walk in sunny brisk weather.  Most of the roads seem to be pretty quiet on the weekend.

*A cold weather discovery...one time during the winter, I went up a particular "mountain" near Seoul (Surisan?) It was snowy and icy in parts, and I lost the trail and started going down the wrong side and then I retraced my steps back over the rocky spine but once again picked the wrong path, and then I met a Korean man decked out in serious hiking equipment, the poles and crampons and North Face stuff that many Koreans took to the mountains.  These are serious hikes, some of which have permanent rope or metal fixtures and overnight cabins.  He pointed me to the right trail and I thanked him and took off.  I didn't have crampons but one cannot slip when in midair and so sometimes it's easier to run down something slippery than brace against each step.  He couldn't keep up but he caught up to me a few times when I stopped to find the trail.  I thanked him again, but I took off each time.  I figured I was being rude, but I was cold and exuberant, and I got down the mountain and eventually onto a main street nearby where I stopped to walk--and then he pulled up in a white car.  Of course it was white; everything was white or grey.  He asked if I was ok, and I told him I was, and thanked him again and waved and walked away.  It was a chasm of disjointed cultures, I suppose, leaving both of us with unanswered questions for the rest of our lives.  On the one hand, I felt very much alone, but it was thrilling to climb out of the cityscape onto ice and bare rock and the threat of falling to a sudden smash.  I found a sauna soon after and spent the next few hours sweating, and then I went home.  Do I ever miss Seoul!