A look back

Many have asked "what's next?" - and I don't have an answer to that. There are a lot of little things on the drawing board - but nothing big (yet)...certainly not as big as the summer's run. That run encompassed so much: a journey through new country and to new places in mind, body and spirit; an incomparable family road trip; the accomplishment of a decades-long goal; an entirely new perspective on day-to-day life...leading to a new perspective on life in general; the successful completion of the biggest project I have ever tackled.

And, as with a butterfly's wings, the run had a ripple effect. So often since I started the run, I've heard folks say things like "I'll feel tired then think about you and finish [name it]" or "Now I want to [insert goal here]" or "If you can do that, I know I can do this." I hope the ripples continue forever. If you have a dream, hold onto it, let it germinate, and continue to nurture it.
With patience, planning, a heavy dose of optimism, and, yes fortitude ...mayhap stubborness... your dream can - and will - blossom.



Pictures:
top - Lake Michigan beach, Upper Peninsula;
bottom - flowers along the Cannon Valley trail, Minnesota

Holiday running

One of the things I like about running this time of year - besides the beauty of running through a winter wonderland - is the holiday decor spicing up various lawns and homes. Someone with a magnificent imagination maintains a garden along one of my routes. Just recently the aliens that appeared during Halloween season were replaced with a variety of Santas - santa in a canoe on top of a caboose, santa pushing a reindeer sitting in a sleigh, santa tumbling into a well. Fun enough to make one forget the tricky footing of the season!

Magical mornings

Gentle snow run...dawn

Owls hoot - back and forth - east, west
A crystalline world

Feeling funky but looking up

Last Tuesday, I came down with my first sickness since retiring July 28, 2006. Despite all the mileage and stresses I put on my body over the last 18 months, I successfully avoided colds, flu, grunge... Perhaps it wasn't "in spite of" but "because of" all the mileage that I was so darned healthy. In any case, this fall my mileage has been declining, and now I'm sick.

Last week I had a fever, no voice, no energy. In fact, I logged my lowest total weekly mileage since breaking my arm in September, 2005. But this week, I have turned the corner and am running (and speaking) again. Yay! And today's run home from my radio reading service volunteer job was a wonderful reminder of many of the delights I experienced during the summer's run.

• A train (infrequent in Boulder) chugged alongside giving me the opportunity for one more race-with-a-train (the train always wins).
• A flicker landed in a tree next to me, tweeting and pecking.
• Geese flew overhead.
• A stick threaded its way up into my shoelaces as I trotted down the trail.
• A giant pile of tumbleweeds filled up the entrance to an underpass, bringing to mind this summer's famous "Take Heed! It's a Tumbleweed" song.

• And Paul and Jester met me along the trail, running me home once again...
  

Pop

Paul George Vaughan celebrating his 85th birthday

flying paper airplanes with grandson Paul

My dad would have been 96 years old today. He made it to 95 years and 4 weeks...never quite buying into my run-to-Michigan thing. He was having a hard time wrapping his mind around any reason why I might want to tackle such a venture and, even when he began to concede that maybe I had an itch to do something that might be ok for me though beyond his personal tastes, he, being such a direct and straightforward fellow, was decidedly frustrated by the roundabout route I would have to take. That's a fast-flying pilot for you (pop being a WWII pilot with a life-long love of flying).

Be that as it may, I am thoroughly convinced that he was with me the entire way. Running along the road, gazing at the horizon, the tumbleweeds, the rolling hills, the livestock, the clouds, the bizarre piece of machinery, the cannon rolling by, the whatever...and I could talk to my dad about it. "Did you see that?" "How about those clouds" "What the heck is that pop?" "Have you ever seen such a [fill in the blank]?" and "Hi Daddy" whenever a plane would fly overhead. Every day there was a "Thank you pop" for the gracious drivers, the calming rhythm of the run, the making it through another mile on my own two feet, and for the weather. The weather was one of the factors that most convinced me that my dad was with me during the run. I got so darned lucky with storm-free running - it got to the point that, if you wanted to locate where I was along the route, you would need only look at a weather map and find the 30-mile stretch that didn't have thunderstorms, tornadoes, or blistering heat. Spooky. Or pop and friends smiling down on me.

Given my extraordinary stretch of good luck, Kendall, too, was becoming convinced that pop was watching over me. The clincher was the day I ran into Michigan. Just as I headed for the state line, twelve WWII planes flew overhead in formation, circling above the entire time I was running over the bridge from Wisconsin to Michigan.

Thank you, pop, for the run of a lifetime.

Thankful

...thankful for everyone who helped to make The Run happen, who brought smiles to my face along the way, and to those who gave me the gumption to even think of doing the run, to start, and to carry through all 1400 miles. I am one very lucky human.


























...gumption past and present...

Picture key:
Top row from left to right:
- Paula with cycling Kendall (always ready with entertaining conversation) on Mackinac Island;
- Devon (elder son, who held down the fort - and house and dog - in Boulder) greeting Paula upon arrival in Petoskey;
- Paul (younger son, and ace support crew member) running Paula in on her last few miles for the day...done many a time during the journey and always with a smile;

Second row from left to right:
- Lysa (support crew for a week in Nebraska and exuberant all around supporter), Paula, and Deb (logistics chief throughout the prep, support crew on Day 1, and cheerleading welcoming committee in Michigan) back in Boulder celebrating the run;
- AndyE, part of the very enthusiastic surprise welcome home committee (and year-round running partner, running partner on the last 9 miles of Day 1 and support crew for two very fun days in Wisconsin) and Paula, upon her arrival home in Boulder;
- Paula and Joe (year-round running partner and Day 3 support crew) setting out on Day 3 of the run;

Third row: Bob Kulus (and Paula and Paul) who welcomed us near Cannon Falls, Minnesota with a passel full of homemade goodies and great cycling company on the run.

Fourth row left: Randy of the Missouri River Runners - my guide through the bike trails from Dakota City, Nebraska to Sioux City, Iowa
Fourth row right: Welcoming committee at the Mountain-Bay trailhead (Helen, Valerie, Paula, Barb and Paul)

Fifth row left: AndyE and his brother-in-law Mike who hosted us for a few days at his farm in Marshfield Wisconsin while AndyE crewed for me and Kendall & Paul took a brief respite.
Fifth row right: Burwell pie ladies (Fridays in Burwell - pie and coffee and delightful company all for $1 at the Senior Center - one of the best mornings of the entire trip!)

Sixth row center: my motorcycling cousin Jim who visited us in Jackson, Minnesota then hosted us for a night of spaghetti and great conversation.

Seventh row center: high school buddies Carl and Connie who surprised me at the outskirts of Petoskey and ran a mile with me along the waterfront; cycling Tom in the background guided me the last day on the Petoskey-Mackinac trail

Past & Present Gumption
Top left: my siblings-in-law - Andy, Steve, Cheryl and my husband Kendall...they've welcomed me and supported me as one of their own.
Center: my father-in-law Woody who believed I could do anything...my run started on what would have been his 82nd birthday.
Top right: me and my pop during my high school years...my pop was one big bundle of gumption. The gumption he passed along to me got me going, Pop watching over me, got me to the finish line.
Bottom: At the finish in Petoskey: Mom, always worried, yet always cheering me on...this was a hug to revel in...

The written word

I've been writing some articles about The Run...a series of installment pieces. The first was about preparing for the run, the second about the first four days, and I'm currently working on the third installment which covers the bulk of the miles to Michigan. Today, as part of creating this third installment, I spent the afternoon at a coffee shop reading the journal I kept during the run. The actual journal was something that Paul made in his first grade art class many years ago. I was saving it for something worthy of his fine work. Chronicling the run seemed to fill the bill.

Keeping a written record of this run was one of the smartest things I've ever done. I wrote in the journal after each run segment (morning and afternoon), capturing thoughts, struggles, conversations, weather, trivia, sights, and sounds. Reading through it today brought both smiles and tears as the memories came rushing back...almost as though a film reel was running through my brain. The power of the written word...

Big numbers

Today I broke in my 40th pair of Brooks Adrenaline. Brooks have carried me through many a mile and a whole lotta adventures. Today my brand new pair took me through an 800s workout with running buddy Joe - and to my 3,999th mile of the year. My mind doth be boggled.

Big Dogs

Today's run
Looking west past tumbleweeds and high prairie toward the flatirons & Continental Divide

"If you can't run with the big dogs, stay on the porch" is how the saying goes. Not being one to laze around, today I revised the saying to "If you can't run with the big dogs, leave the pack."

For the umpteenth Saturday since my return to Colorado, I was unable to keep up with the satboys gang - the fellows I've been running with on Saturdays for the last...wholebuncho'years. I ran an hour out to our meeting place, then, within a few minutes of starting off together, I found myself drifting off the back ...once again.... Thoroughly frustrated with my lack of speed and consequent inability to run with my buddies, I told them (when we all met up at the predesignated bathroom stop) I would be running on home from there (home being about 9 or 10 miles away, whereas we only had about 30 minutes left in our originally planned run). I figured I could at least run long even if not fast. So that's just what I did.

It was a good decision....a wonderful run - especially whenever I was able to shift my brain away from thinking about how slow I have become. A tad cool with a brisk breeze on my face, hawks overhead, hot air balloons off in the distance to the north, the flatirons and Continental Divide to the west, quiet country roads, and a trail all to myself. Ahhhhh...... Best of all, my body proved to be perfectly happy with the unexpected switch from a two-hour run to a four-hour run - my first four-hour run since The Run.

In the meantime, I've got a lot of work to do to get myself back up to pack speed. Woof!

Determination

Sparkling Hedwig, the motorhome, just after crossing the Wisconsin border (east of Red Wing, MN)

Many times over the summer I was asked how I could get myself going each day for another 30 miles. My standard answer - and, really the truth of the matter - was that only by running another 30 each day would I reach Petoskey...and I really really wanted to reach Petoskey...on foot....

I needed to call upon a heaping helping of determination today - but not for nearly so lofty or enjoyable a goal. I needed to clean the house. Of all the day-to-day activities, housekeeping is by far my least favorite. But, we're heading out for family weekend at Knox College and I figured that leaving a clean house for our house and dog sitter would be the only decent thing to do. I've been tackling a variety of tasks on the pre-trip to do list all week, but house cleaning kept dropping down the list. This morning, as my head filled with all the early morning grand plans (run, exercise class, walk/run the dog, do the sudoku, make a latte...) I realized that I could allow myself no distractions if the house cleaning was to get done. So I got tough on myself. No run, no coffee, no nothin', until the house got clean. Finally, 1:30 p.m., Jester and I got out for our run, with a gleaming house behind us.

As I ran, I wondered if maybe one of the reasons I enjoyed the motorhome so much was because it's a "place for everything, everything in its place" kind of deal. So little "stuff" and so few places to put stuff. It makes housekeeping a much simpler affair. Be that as it may, I now have a clean motorhome and a clean house. Ta dah!

It's all in the socks!

On the road between Sherburn and St James Minnesota - sporting sunflower socks

Prior to the summer's run, I realized that my sock supply was woefully inadequate - both in number and quality. I did not have enough socks on hand to provide my feet with a fresh pair of socks for each of the 12 15-mile segments I would be running between laundries - and, if one counted only the hole-free socks, I really didn't have enough to make it between laundries. So I went sock shopping.

I generally do not care for shopping - but socks are a different matter. They can be very fun - especially when browsing through running socks of various designs. So! I got me six pairs of socks, each with a different design, plus a pair of free Brooks socks, and a pair of "going away" socks - and that added to my carefully counted six pair of hole-free socks gave me just enough socks to make it through the week, with a couple of spare pairs.

Once on the road, though, I discovered some nuances:

• The new socks were a tad thicker than my older socks and consequently were not entirely comfortable for my afternoon runs when my feet were a bit swollen.
  
• I needed to wear the ankle-high model (rather than the low-cut model) of socks when running trails in order to keep dirt and pebbles from creeping into my socks.
  
• However, when I was dealing with my sore leg, the low-cut socks were easier on my swollen leg.
  
• As the miles added up, so did the holes in my sock supply. So then I had to wear the newest socks in the mornings (when I generally ran more than 15 miles), saving the holey socks for the lesser mileage of the afternoons.
• And, of course, if a state line crossing was on tap for the day, I simply had to wear my Colorado flag socks.
  

Tricky business this sock stuff!

So why am I bringing it up today? Well, being October 31st, I wanted to wear a pair of socks that offered a Halloween flavor. As I went through my sock drawer, I saw a pair with a yellow/orange-colored design that I had left behind thinking they were my smiley-face pair that had too many holes to take on the trip. Lo and behold, they were my sun logo socks that I had entirely forgotten about. A favorite pair, no less, since the logo is much like the logo for Kendall's family's ski lodge (which they no longer own). I can't believe I neglected to take them on my Run To Michigan! But now I have a hole-free pair of socks with one of my most favorite designs. Bonus!

More than speed

Having not yet brought our Quicken records up to date with our charge card activity from the trip, and seeing the piles get bigger and bigger, I finally forced myself to forego outside time in the glorious fall weather and, instead, sit at the computer and enter all the receipts. I was astounded by how quickly I could travel across the country via financial transactions. With a few minutes of key-tapping, I went from the Buffalo Hills Campground in Sterling, Colorado to the Fiesta Mexicana restaurant in Red Wing, Minnesota...a thirty-day journey this summer.

I'm glad today's typing went that quickly - but I'm also very very happy with the leisurely pace of the trip and the opportunity it gave me to revel in the sights, sounds, and smells of the heartland. As Ghandi said: "There's more to life than increasing its speed."

'Tis a lesson well-learned. Today's picture was taken during this morning's run when I paused to marvel at this wasp's nest amidst the fall colors. Pausing, marveling....good.

Morning potpourri

As I ran home from my exercise class this morning there were two things I wanted to remember:

1. After class, the instructor offered to do caliper-based fat measurements. I decided to have mine done, figuring I'm about as thin as I'm ever going to be (tho' it would have been interesting to be measured on August 1 ...I've certainly put on a layer since then...). Sure enough, I came out at 19.6, less than when I had an underwater check back before I was a mom. Not being of the lean-body-type end of the scale, I was pleased with the reading. Now I just need to keep it there! Thus, I made a mental note to record the reading so I could compare it to future readings. (Oh how I wish there were yellow stickies for the brain; I seldom remember those things I think of during a run.)
   
2. I spotted a bumper sticker I wanted to tell my family about: "A PBS brain in an MTV world." Kind of clever. Now we just need to change the world!

Then, when I got home, I remembered I needed to bathe Jester dog.
I believe I've mentioned in the past that our pooch just loves to roll in things.
Well, this morning while Kendall was walking Jester before the sun had risen, Mr K kicked something that he later said sounded like a leftover container. Kendall walked on but, apparently, off-leash Jester decided to investigate further.
When Jester dog finally came running back to Kendall, his fur was slimed and odor-de-vinaigrette emanated from our furry friend.
Thus the bath for salad dog.

Running errands...again

When I started typing the title of this post, I discovered I had already created a "Running errands" post back on April 27th. I took a look at it. That day, I ran a few errands, short ones, as I was trying hard to keep my mileage under 60 for the "easy" week. Today, in an attempt to get my mileage over 50 for the week, I ran the 4.5 miles to my volunteer job, then another 5 miles from my volunteer job to a part-time, temporary job that I just started, then, later today, a quick jaunt to the library and back to return a book. I'm going to be sending out a search party soon to find the gumption I had when I was cruising through those 70-80 mile weeks this past year!

A fall 2006 run, when I was brimming with gumption

Bunnies

bonus points to whoever spots the bunny in the picture above!

I'm doing volunteer work early in the morning in eastern Boulder. Lately, I've been running home from the job - and the run takes me right along the bike path that I followed out of Boulder on my way to Michigan. Paul and I were running and chatting along that path the first day of The Run when one of us spotted a bunny. The other didn't quite understand what the first one said. "Money?" No.... "Funny?" No.... And eventually the funny money bunny phrase, repeated often during the summer, was born.

Every time I've run home along that path this fall, I've seen a bunny. And am reminded of the run. And funny money bunny. And Paul. It was a very good summer for this lucky mama.

Paul, ready to run, Day 1

Catching Up

A long overdue post here....

I was in Michigan last week to help mom celebrate her 87th birthday. Did you know that it takes less than two hours to reach the west shore of Lake Michigan if you travel via jet plane from Denver? And to think it took me 47 days by foot... It was interesting looking down at the heartland from the plane, seeing the crisscross of country roads and fields...and wishing I were down there feeling the breeze against my face, hearing the birds, smelling the grasses ...instead of being stuffed in a metal tube hurtling through the sky. On the other hand, I was able to fit in a visit with my mom during my short 6-day window of free time.

My mom is a remarkable woman.
She spent most of 2005-2006 as the full-time caregiver for my dad as his health failed. During that time she learned all the ins and outs of being chief house manager while pretty much putting all of her own stuff on hold.
After dad died last December, mom kept plugging along, taking care of the various issues that arise with becoming the sole caretaker of house and home. And she continued to put her own stuff on hold as her daughter launched her grand run from Colorado to Michigan. With the run complete, mom's body spoke up and said it was time for her to give it some attention. Consequently mom found herself dealing with a number of health issues.
By the time I arrived on the scene last week, mom had pretty much dug in and told her body that she'd had enough of being sick and housebound and that she was turning that ship right around. She was back on her feet, driving hither and thither, getting her thrice weekly physical therapy, going out with "the girls" and generally kicking her heels up ... or at least putting one foot in front of the other as she marches on through life.
And I thought I got all my bullheadedness from my dad. Ha!

Paula & Mom at The Run's finish 8/1/2007

Upon my return from Michigan, it was time to tackle the Denver Marathon. I had run Denver last year. This spring, when they offered a "buddy" deal, Joe buddied up with me, signing up for the half while I signed up for the full, thinking that it would be great fun to jump into a marathon after running 1400 miles across the country. What great shape I'd be in! Such endurance! So light on my feet! Ha (once again)!
It turns out I'm really in no mood to race and my body seems to be in no mood to run fast. Figuring that anything quicker than 11 mpm pace for 26.2 miles would be unrealistic and not wanting to be out there for who-knows-how-long, I dropped to the half marathon. Wise decision. Race day dawned cold (30s), rainy, and, oh boy, a bit of a breeze too! Worse weather than I had seen on my entire run to Michigan by far (at least for the cold and wet ends of the spectrum). I had hoped that, although the looming marathon didn't provide the inspiration to train for speed that I had thought it would, perhaps the actual running of the marathon would inspire me to greater heights afterwards. That didn't really work so well either as I mostly just got inspired to jump into a hot shower after I got home then don my warmest clothes, crawl under some blankets and be a couch potato all afternoon.

I must confess to being rather frustrated with my turtle-like speed these days. However, I do find it encouraging to discover, while running, that I am still intrigued with veering off course, meandering about, exploring new routes, and enjoying all the sensations that come with putting one foot in front of the other while traversing this magnificent planet...no matter what speed.

From a trail along Little Traverse Bay, Petoskey, Michigan
October 2007

"Don't encourage her"

"Don't encourage her"
was my husband's automatic reaction whenever anyone brought up The Run during the early days of the idea and planning. In fact, he got to say it once again when the Wausau Daily Herald interviewed him; the article closed with this quote from Kendall: "My first and constant refrain was, 'Don't encourage her.' But once she gets an idea in her head..."

It is undoubtedly Kendall's tolerance for the ideas I get in my head - combined with his bodacious sense of humor - that has kept us married for 32 years - today!



If you ever find a spouse who is willing to cross the country with you at four miles an hour, cheering, singing, and dancing along the way, consider yourself one lucky human!

To Kendall, who stayed by my side as I chased my dream - thank you for a glorious 32 years and a magical summer.

Horizons

Rolling fields of Nebraska

When a visual of the summer's run flits through my mind, it's usually of the horizon. Pointing yourself in an easterly direction for eight weeks on the open road through the middle of America, really opens you up - in both mind and spirit. I believe this has a lot to do with the phenomenon of spending hours upon hours gazing at the horizon...no closed doors, walls, or roofs to be found.

Coming back to a life that involves a fair amount of indoor time has been an adjustment. However, I noticed today, as I pedaled my bike to my volunteer job just at sunrise, that a grin spread across my face...as my view filled, once again, with the eastern horizon. Getting a daily dose of open is a good thing.

Made it through the day

September 26th has come and almost gone without mishap. All that's left is the brushing of the teeth, the putting on of the jammies, and the climbing into the bed. I do believe I can safely negotiate those three hazards.

I rode my bike to & fro my volunteer job with nary a spill. I also ran twice and used sharp tools and still came through the day unscathed. Perhaps the comment left by thronedoggie has a point: it's the combination of the 26th, the bike, and the Boulder Backroads marathon that was playing havoc with me the last two years. The marathon isn't until this coming Sunday (the 30th) - and I'm not even running it this year (the first year I'll not participate in Backroads since its inception!). Who knows, I may make it into October with neither bump nor bruise. (I gotta find me some wood to knock on. See ya'!)

PJ during a midday break in Nebraska - not wounded,
simply resting with ice packs on the feet, ice cloths on the quads
and a Great Harvest Longmont energy bar at my side

Cycling Adventures

Paul & Paula, Cowboy Trail, June 26, 2007

I have been known to be a bit of a klutz on a bicycle. Enough so, that one might question why I would ever move any closer to the pilot's seat of a bicycle than I am in the above picture. For example:

• Two years ago, on September 26, 2005 (one day after running the Boulder Backroads Marathon), I was riding my bike home from work, spotted an exceptionally well-played pick up basketball game in progress along side the bike trail, and became so engrossed in the game that I rode right off the bike trail, crashed, and broke my arm.
• One year ago, on September 26, 2006 (two days after running the Boulder Backroads Marathon), I was riding my bike home from an errand, got to my driveway, swung my leg off my bike, caught my pants (shorts) leg on the seat and crashed backwards, pulling my bike over on top of me, bonking my head, bruising my hip, and torquing my back.

Tomorrow is September 26th. Should I avoid riding my bike? Or should I try to break the curse? I haven't yet decided - but I did have quite the cycling klutz test yesterday when I rode to my volunteer job.

When I left my house a little before 7 a.m., there was a light rain falling. It seldom rains hard in the morning in Boulder so I wasn't too worried. Ha! The further away from home I rode, the harder it rained. In fact, it started raining so hard, my skin started to protest. No wonder - there was hailed mixed in with the rain - and then there was hail covering the bike paths, and then there were rivers covering the bike paths, and then there was lightning, and thunder! What a ride! I did manage to arrive at the volunteer office in one piece - actually, one very soggy piece. A couple hours later, I rode home. No more hail coming down, but mounds of it covered the bike paths, interspersed with more new rivers, growing by the minute as the rain continued to fall. An interesting - and very wet - ride. But I arrived home upright, klutz test passed.

So, brave the curse of 9/26 and bike to work tomorrow? Or......

Dog talk

Jester dog and I ran together this morning as the sunrise eased into daylight. On our way back home, we turned a corner in our neighborhood and were greeted by the sound of a yapping dog hidden behind a tall wooden fence. Actually, it was a looong tall wooden fence so there was a lot of yap! yap! yap! yap! as we made our way past the fence. Just as we were approaching the next corner, a human's voice floated out from behind the fence with "Shut up!" - and the "yap! yap! yap!" turned into "ruhh Ruh! ruhh Ruh! ruhh Ruh!" I'm pretty darned sure that's dog for shutup! shutup! shutup! Ya' gotta be careful what you say around these pooches!

Changing Seasons

Earlier in the week, we were east of Boulder and I was shocked by the sight of a cornfield - it was brown! All the lovely tall green corn stalks that I had become so accustomed to over the summer had been harvested leaving a swath of dirt dotted by a few dried and weathered corn stalks. Last night my husband called from the road (he and Devon are on their way to Illinois to set Devon up in his first post-college apartment). They had switched from I80 to the Lincoln Highway at Ogallala to show Devon a bit of my running route. Kendall said, with a wistful note in his voice, that it looks very different. There, too, the formerly emerald fields are now brown and empty.

My son has left the nest and moved on to a new chapter in his life. My father and my first running buddy passed on this year. The corn fields have been harvested. And my run from Colorado to Michigan is history. Usually I revel in autumn's glory. This year, I think it will be a more reflective passing of the seasons.

But, before one begins to think I'm becoming more morose with the passing of the summer: I ran some hills this morning and felt like I was really running once again, breakfast at a running buddy's house was a taste bud-tickling meal with fresh-off-the-vine tomatoes (delish!), I cheered on the Colorado Buffaloes as they won their football game today 42-0 (a performance we haven't seen in Buff land for quite some time), I made arrangements for an evening out at the theater to celebrate Kendall's and my 32nd wedding anniversary, and I've just submitted my first article about the run. Life is rolling merrily along. And you know what? I suspect there will always be more corn. In the meantime, the earth offers many a joyful experience.

Grandpa's Funny Farm, a wee bit north and a tad east of Bigelow, Minnesota

Packing Up

Devon & Paula just after Paula arrived at Petoskey's waterfront, 8/1/2007

This time it is my eldest, my first-born, who is packing. And this is no ordinary packing job - not for, say, a couple weeks of camp or for a trip or even for college. No, Devon, who graduated this past June then came back to Boulder to hold down the fort and take care of Jester dog while we were out galavanting across the country, is moving out on his own...back to Illinois where he went to college. My boy is a man.

It's been interesting, this round of packing. Sorting through all of his boxes, drawers, cupboards and shelves has offered quite the trip down memory lane. And digging around the bowels of the house and in the bargain bins of various thrift shops sent me right back to the 70s when I had but a few dollars to my name and was shopping for my first apartment. Twenty-two years of memories and a future burgeoning with possibilities. I wish you a magnificent ride Devon Andrew.

Grandpa (Paul Vaughan), Devon, and Opa (Woody Miller) , 1986

Devon & brother Paul, first day of school, circa 1993

Paula (Mom) and Devon, Spring 2007

Running with the stars

Sunset from the road to Brush, June 9, 2007

...as in starry starry night - or pre-dawn.

It's been a long time since I've run in the dark. During The Run, my only run in the dark occurred on June 9th, the fourth day of the run and our first day with the motorhome. It turned out that those few last minute items consumed most of the morning so the final RV prep plus the drive out to the day's starting point meant I didn't begin running until almost 1 p.m. and didn't finish running until 9:15 p.m. Me in the dark without a reflector vest and the guys on bikes with one bike light between them. What a team! I was definitely bushed in Brush that night. (But what fun camping for the first time in the motorhome, in the Brush city park, and for free!)

Since then, all my running has been done in daylight - until this week. I now have a volunteer job that starts at 7:30 three mornings a week. I'm a much better person if I've had a run before I confront the public so I've been getting out the door around 5-5:30 for a bit of a run before breakfasting and volunteering.

It's dark at that time of the day - just like when I was running while I was working! What a wonderful time of day to run...stars, planets, little critters, not so little critters. When I ran with my old dog, Loki, I had an early warning device leashed to me. Loki loved everything and everybody. If his ears went up, I knew there was something interesting ahead; if his ears went back flat, I knew there was danger ahead. Very handy. Jester dog, on the other hand, is a bit more cautious. He scruffs his neck whenever he detects anything he believes to be out of the ordinary: a trash can, a loose piece of paper, a person, a critter, an invisible spooky thing. So now we have a wary dog attached to a neck-swiveling human wondering what the heck mister Jester is looking at. Be that as it may, we're both quite excited by the prospect of grabbing the leash in the morning just like old times. And I do love being out there in the pre-dawn quiet...almost as good as those long country roads this summer.

It's everywhere!

I may have mentioned, through the course of my summer run, that we saw a lot of corn...a lot of corn. Calf-high corn in Colorado, growing throughout Nebraska until it was taller than me by the time I crossed into Iowa, then a whole lotta corn in Minnesota...as far as the eye could see, a bit less corn in Wisconsin but still plenty, and the occasional corn patch (delicious corn, by the way) in Michigan. Yep, a whole lot of corn. When I visualize this run, corn is a dominant vision (with a strong surrounding cast of soybeans, cows, horses, and wild turkeys - oh, and raspberries on every trail...can't forget the raspberries).

But back to the corn. When we pulled into our driveway upon our return to Boulder, what did we see (besides a boisterous welcoming committee)? A corn stalk standing proud in our lawn. Methinks the corn gods did not want us to forget the land I had just crossed. Since then, we have been very careful to mow around the stalk, appreciating its green leaves but with little expectation for it to do much else besides, perhaps, grow a little taller. It surprised us last week by putting forth tassels. And today, the biggest surprise of all - there is actually an ear of corn growing on this little stray stalk. What a magical summer this has been.

Top picture is an example of "real" corn in Minnesota.
The bottom picture is our wee stray stalk of lawn corn, with its mini ear in the lower left.