6 miles
veterans home + extra
64 degrees
Another beautiful morning. Quiet, calm, low-ish humidity. Ran on as much soft dirt as I could find, which helps my feet. Ran for 12 minutes straight, then 90/30 for the rest — with an occasional 2 or 3 minutes of running thrown in. My legs felt strong and bouncy. My feet started hurting around mile 4. I need to figure this one out. I think it’s mostly warts — yuck! — a few on the ball of my feet, one or two on or under a toe.
10 Things
- a coxswain’s voice, down in the gorge
- the dirt trail on the grass between lena smith and the river road was narrow and overgrown
- nearing locks and dam no. 1, voices somewhere in the trees — on the upper trail leading to the ford bridge
- ding ding ding ding ding the recorded bell from the light trail train passing through a intersection
- the soft roar of the creek far below me as I crossed the tall bridge that connects the veterans home to the park
- a glimpse of the trail Scott, RJP, and I hiked yesterday evening through the trees, below
- mostly empty benches
- a few e-bikes on the trail, going way too fast
- glanced over at the statue of Big Feet/Gunner* when I turned to run through the archway near the falls
- surfaces: asphalt, concrete, dirt, roots, brick, sand
*I looked up Gunner on this log because I knew I had written about him. A fun coincidence: I wrote about him on June 27th, 2021! “Ran south on the river road trail past the falls and stopped at the big statue just past the pergola garden. When I would walk or bike the kids over here, about 10 years ago, we (or was it mostly me?) called this statue “big feet” because all the kids could see was his big feet. There was also a little feet (John Stevens)–a much smaller statue not too far way. Today I wanted to find out who Big Feet actually was. I assumed he might be someone connected to Fort Snelling–Zebulon Pike or Snelling or Franklin. Nope. Gunner Wennenberg, a Swedish composer, poet, and politician. This statue was erected on June 24th, 1914.”
Found this bit about names on Poetry Daily (poems.com):
A name is a word but not a word. Some words are names and some names are words. When you’re alive your name means you; sometimes it means the you you mean to yourself; more often the you you are to each person who knows you well enough to use it. If it’s a word, it also means what it means as a word in the mouths of people who don’t know you, and also sometimes in the mouths of people who do know you. When you’re dead your name means you until the people who used it are all gone and then it means pure sound (if your name was not a word), or it goes back to meaning what the word means (if your name was also a word).
Danika Paige Myers on Grave Markers