For this weekend, I decided to try something new and signed up for the “not for wimps” trail half marathon. It was a beautiful spring morning and the terra firma was alive with fresh green ground cover and budding trees. Silver lake glistened in the morning sun and the blue sky finished off this artistic rendering, except, this landscape was for real and it felt great to be part of the scenery. Through the trees, the sunlight painted a surreal smile on the trails below and brought the dormant shrubbery back to life. The trails were scenic and circumvented crooked- and half moon lake, adding a wilderness flavor to this unique Michigan nature preserve. To best describe the topography of the route, picture an upside down saw blade interspersed with some long and sharp teeth.
The down hills were a blast, but at times gravity pushed me beyond my comfort zone. At mile marker five, I tripped and fell, smashed my face into the dirt and busted my glasses. It was actually somewhat of an adrenaline rush and soon I was running again, but now with a muddy facial bruise and without the twenty-twenty vision. At mile seven on the downhill I hit a pothole and severely twisted my ankle and let out some obscenity not appropriate to repeat but permissible for the outdoors. Able to finish the race and shortly after crossing the finish line I jumped into the freezing-cold water of Silver Lake to “ice” my ankle. That felt good! After the pothole encounter I had several near misses as tiny tree stumps and exposed tree roots seemed to be lurking around every corner. At times I would trip, fall forward, but miraculously by franticly throwing my arms up in the air in some half circular fashion, maintain my balance, and most importantly, remained up right thrusting through the woods! The occasional sound of a “stud dud” in front and back of me reassured me that I wasn’t the only amateur on the trials. In the end “dancing with dirt” was a blast and a truly magnificent new experience.
The down hills were a blast, but at times gravity pushed me beyond my comfort zone. At mile marker five, I tripped and fell, smashed my face into the dirt and busted my glasses. It was actually somewhat of an adrenaline rush and soon I was running again, but now with a muddy facial bruise and without the twenty-twenty vision. At mile seven on the downhill I hit a pothole and severely twisted my ankle and let out some obscenity not appropriate to repeat but permissible for the outdoors. Able to finish the race and shortly after crossing the finish line I jumped into the freezing-cold water of Silver Lake to “ice” my ankle. That felt good! After the pothole encounter I had several near misses as tiny tree stumps and exposed tree roots seemed to be lurking around every corner. At times I would trip, fall forward, but miraculously by franticly throwing my arms up in the air in some half circular fashion, maintain my balance, and most importantly, remained up right thrusting through the woods! The occasional sound of a “stud dud” in front and back of me reassured me that I wasn’t the only amateur on the trials. In the end “dancing with dirt” was a blast and a truly magnificent new experience.
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