4.15 miles
minnehaha falls steps and back
45 degrees
Yes, spring! Bright sun and clear paths. Warmer air. Lots of runners and walkers and one roller skier in a bright yellow shirt. My lower back/glutes did not hurt when I was running — even though they had ached slightly (or softly?) yesterday and last night.
Did a slightly different route today: river road trail, south / godfrey / hiked down the steep trail then ran across the flat, grassy part below the falls where the creek pools and begins to bend / walked up the 100+ steps / climbed over the green gate / ran through the park / north river road, trail / boulevard grass
Running south I listened to the roller skiers poles striking the ground and happy voices, returning north, my color playlist. An orange song happened at the end, Shake it Well/ Koo Koo. Like most orange words, its about the fruit.
10 Things
- a loud rustling in the dry leaves below the double bridge
- a big turkey on the winchell trail, they moved off to the side to let me pass — no hissing or gobbling
- white foaming water falling beside slabs of ice
- the creek, moving past over the rocks, glittering in the sun
- a woodpecker somewhere in the trees, laughing
- the bench above the edge of the world, empty
- something big and bright and shining across the river
- something else big and white — at first I thought it might be the sky through a gap in the trees but later I decided it was a building
- my shadow in front of me — sharp, looming, distracting
- a lumpy shadow cast on the paved trail by a gnarled tree branch leaning over a crooked fence
This month, I’m slowly incorporating steps into my training, and my thinking about color, especially but not exclusively, orange. Here’s a color poem I discovered yesterday:
Black lake, black boat, / Emily Skaja
black fog I can’t find my way
through. Black trees, black
moon. I once knew the sky
from the water. This course
I remember, its narrowing.
How I crept my way down
the ladder like clutching
the gluey rungs of a throat.
I know you know how I’ve been.
Like you, like blood sucked
from a cut. A hot metal gash,
a beat of alarm, too late.
The water is listening.
That’s my name in its mouth.