Tag: no headphones

oct 8/RUN

6 miles
hidden falls and back
48 degrees

48 degrees! Wore shorts again with my compression socks. Wasn’t cold at all. In fact, felt warm and sweat a lot by the end. Not as easy of a run as it was yesterday. Unfinished business, tired legs. Even so, a few mental victories. Made it to Hidden Falls for the first time this year! (I checked and my last run to Hidden Falls was on 8 dec 2024).

A beautiful run along the river road, on the edge of Wabun Park, over the ford bridge, by the river again, above Hidden Falls. I stopped at the overlook there and marveled at the view. Such a view of the river valley on the way to St. Paul. I thought about the openness of this view: wide, far and also uncluttered, not much to look at, just open space. Nothing to try to see and not be able to. A chance to focus on other senses or not focus at all, but just to be.

There were a few things I saw that delighted me. My view was of the tops of trees. In the distance, some leaves silvered and shimmered in the sun light and wind. Glittering trees — I’ve written about that before. Then, a plane high overhead. At first, dull and dark, but as it hit the light, it sparkled and flashed, a shiny dot in the otherwise blue.

I listened to hammers pounding nails, kids yelling, and cars driving by until I reached Hidden Falls. Then I put in Taylor Swift’s “The Life of a Showgirl” on the way back.

today’s study of Air, before the run:

I’m thinking about how/why something becomes/is open: the planning by rich men of spaces, both as inviting — for experiencing wonder and stillness, and as buffers –protecting from the unwanted; the process of succession (see 4 may 2025) and meadow becoming thicket becoming forest becoming open/barren field; how Minneapolis Parks, National Parks, and the Longfellow Neighborhood Association work to keep spaces within the park; how the city of Minneapolis clears out encampments in the gorge. I’m thinking about my own experience with my blind spot: an opening that won’t close, that stays open to how vision really works and it limits, that opens me up and softens me, offering room to dwell in a place without judgment and enabling me to experience the world differently and outside of, or on the edge, of late capitalism and Progress! and excessive growth.

And then, a pivot. I started thinking about Canadian wildfire smoke and air quality and smells — sewer smells. In wondered, why does it sometimes smell so bad, and how do they handle those smells? Looked it up:

Sewage pipes from much of the West Metro converge at this site. Here, they drop their contents into deeper pipes that then carry the sewage under the river and on to the Metropolitan Wastewater Treatment Plant east of downtown St. Paul. When the sewage drops, sewer gasses are forced out. For years, smells were managed through use of a biofilter (a.k.a. woodchips), but results were mixed and local residents and park users requested improvements.

The new odor-control structure will house four carbon filters that should prove far more effective. Scheduled to come online in early 2017, the small building will soon be fitted with a charcoal gray metal roof along with frosted windows in the north and south roof peaks. Next spring, it will be painted more natural colors and the lot will be revegetated with grass.

source

after the run

I think I’ll leave smells and sewers for another day. Back to space-as-buffer-zone. Way back in 2017 or 18, when I first read the Gorge Management Plan from 2002, I encountered a description of the Boulevard that I’ve wanted to write about:

West River Parkway marks the transition between the natural communities of the River Gorge and the residences of the Longfellow neighborhood.

To function as an effective transitional zone, the boulevard should retain the natural character of the Gorge but also be visually acceptable to local residents and those using the boulevard and its pedestrian trails.

Gorge Management Plan, 2002

A transition zone, a threshold space between private (neighborhood) and public (park) land. Back in 2017, I imagined this transition as a way for me to prepare myself for the sacred practice of my run. A place to pass through — to leave behind the mundane world and enter the sacred. A place for getting reading to notice and slow down and let go. And I think there is room to imagine that as an intent of Cleveland and early park planners. But, when I discovered the terrible history of Edmund Boulevard, named after Edmund Walton who brought red-lining and racial covenants to Minnesota, I read this buffer-zone differently. A buffer as “protection,” exclusion, denying access, keeping out, creating distance and division. And, Edmund’s white supremacist work is not in the past. These racial covenants and red-lining continue to shape the racial mapping of Minneapolis and who has access to home ownership.

How do I want to reference this context in a poem? I’m not sure, but I’m thinking it will be in a poem titled, You Are There: Lena Smith Boulevard.

oct 7/RUN

3 miles
trestle turn around
51 degrees

Fall, finally! Wore my bright orange sweatshirt and black shorts with gray compression socks. Greeted Dave, the Daily Walker. Hi Dave! It’s a beautiful morning! Not too long after that I spotted an albino squirrel by the edge of the bluff. I didn’t stop, but I slowed down and took an extra glance to check that I was seeing what I thought I was. I think so, but how would I know? I saw some rowers emerging from the hill that leads down to the rowing club, but didn’t hear any of them on the river. Since I went north, I didn’t hear any kids on a school playground. Noticed lots of trash bags beside the already full trash cans. Marathon clean-up or a clearing out of camps in the gorge? Also noticed some flowers at the trestle in a makeshift vase — an open cylinder where a railing used to be attached. Orange cones were still next to the crack, warning runners and walkers — stay away. The crack looks like it hasn’t gotten any bigger or longer.

In mile 2, I started chanting a part of my poem, You Are Here: Tunnel of Trees:

Oh, where is the sky?
And where is the ground?
Neither can be seen.

Moving feet strike
only air,
and eyes see
only green.

To fly, to float,
to pass through with ease.

held up
by openness,
not hemmed in
by trees.

The last lines didn’t quite work with my movement, so I changed them slightly:

held Up by
the openness,
not hemmed In
by the trees.

Then I began repeating certain verses instead of reciting them straight through. To float, to fly/to pass through with ease//to float, to fly/to pass through with ease//to float, to fly/to pass through with ease and Held up by/the openness/not hemmed in/by the trees//Held up by/the openness/not hemmed in/by the trees.

I noticed a difference in how it felt as I switched up the lines. To float, to fly had a lot more open space around it. This is how my foot strikes matched up with the words: (x = foot strike without word)

To float x
To fly x
To pass through with ease

The silent extra beat created space and felt slower, maybe a little more labored? In contrast, the last verse was faster and easier for me to sync up my feet with lungs and brain and heart and the gorge.

Held up by
the openness
Not hemmed in
by the trees

No silent foot strikes, just one word per strike.

This experiment was fun and made the run easier, and, as a bonus, it helped me with my poem!

Air

I am little late with picking a theme for this month. I’ve been too haunted by my Girl Ghost Gorge project. Editing and adding new poems every day. Finally, a week in, it has come to me: AIR. Air is the section I am working on right now. It’s the third (love those 3s!) element of the collection: rock, river, Air.

Air as: air quality, good air, bad air, lungs, breathing, syncing up lungs with my feet and the feet and the lungs of others (human and non-human), open space, Nothingness/void, emptiness, a clear view, secrets revealed, thresholds, late October to mid-November before the snow flies, when the veil lifts or thins, boulevards and parkways, ventilation and purification, things not seen but sensed, a stillness within the flux of happenings, fleeting/ephemeral/weightless, smells, plagues, rust, erosion, fire, uncluttered and calm

Walked over to the split rail fence above the ravine and the sewer pipe that freezes in the winter and creates an icy tunnel, then drips blueish greenish water as it melts. The Winchell Trail winds around this ravine, over a steel grate and beside a wrought iron fence that once displayed dozen of keys with social justice-y messages until they were ripped out–by who and why? I wish I could remember the messages. A few: Be nice. We are One. Resist Fear. From up above, at the end of my run, I cannot see the ravine or the sewer or the keys. Sometimes I smell the sewer or hear someone talking below me, but I can’t see anything but green until the leaves fall in late October, early November. This is my favorite time at the gorge. I love being able to see deep into the gorge when its bare bones are exposed, its secrets revealed. I love the color palate of rich browns, pale blues, dull grays, rusted reds. I love the smell of mulching leaves, the sharp, crisp air, the paths that aren’t yet covered with snow but with crunching, crackling leaves.

log entry 7 oct 2019

flame and rust, flame and rust — another October poem (along with Louise Glück’s and May Swenson’s Octobers): Leaves

Today, while I ran, I thought about how chanting in the lines, held up by/the openness/not hemmed in/by the trees, made me feel how I was floating through the air. I noticed the space between foot strikes, that small instant when both of my feet are off of the ground, instead of when they’re striking it. My Apple watch measures my ground contact time while running, the time each foot is on the ground per stride (in ms), but it doesn’t measure the time you’re not on the ground. I guess I could figure it out, but couldn’t the watch do it for me? What percentage of my running is in the air versus touching ground?

With some help from Scott and AI, I determined that my stride time (60/170 — cadence) is 353 ms. Then subtracting my ground contact time from my stride time: 353 – 230 = 123 ms. To find the percentage, it’s ground contact time / total time. For me, I’m on the ground roughly 65% of the stride, and in the air 35% of the stride. It might be fun to work on increasing my cadence (time for the metronome!) and see if that makes any difference in my floating/flying time. Sounds fun!

oct 6/RUN

4.3 miles
minnehaha falls and back
50 degrees

The heat broke! Hooray. My run felt so much better, and dreamier, everything fuzzy and soft. My right knee felt a little strange at the very beginning of the run, but better the longer I ran. The air was crisp, the sun was bright, and the leaves were orange and red and yellow. Today I noticed a stretch of yellow just north of 42nd.

Listened to kids biking to school, water rushing over the limestone ledge and the falls, and at least one song out of a bike radio as I ran south. Put in Taylor Swift’s new album, “The Life of a Showgirl.”

10 Things

  1. Nearing a walker, about to pass them from behind, they suddenly spit. It missed me, but I was grossed out and stuck out my tongue without thinking. Morning! Oh no — it was Mr. Morning!
  2. a row of buses lined up in front of Dowling Elementary — another school week begins
  3. remnants of the marathon — not trash, but barricades, waiting to be picked up
  4. more red and orange leaves — not full trees, but slashes in the bushes
  5. the surface of the river was burning white again
  6. a white truck with an arm and bucket parked in a falls paking lot — was it there to clean up after the marathon?
  7. a rushing creek with foam that looked silvery purpley, oxidized green, blue, then pewter
  8. water trickling out of the sewer pipes
  9. empty benches
  10. the sweet smell of the tall grass — a thought today: is this a smell from my childhood in North Carolina?

some things for future Sara

1

Yesterday, Scott and I walked over to the river and watched the first wave of marathon runners reach mile 17. We saw the wheelers — I love seeing the motion of the silver handlebars turning turning and turning. We saw the men’s lead pack, their heels bouncing rhythmically like balls. We saw the lead woman and second place — a runner I’ve been following for 5 or 6 years now on Instagram. And we saw the GOAT of Ultra running, Courtney Dauwalter. I wish I had remembered to where (added the next day: where instead of wear? wow. a mistake, or is it? In that moment, I was, in fact, lamenting, oh, where are my glasses!) my glasses — in addition to losing my cone cells, I’m near-sighted. If I’m standing still, glasses can help see some far off things, like “exit” signs or moving bodies. Scott and I were inspired and have decided that we want to give the marathon another go, hopefully next year.

2

Finished the novel, Victorian Psycho yesterday. The final section was an epic bloodbath. The violence didn’t seen gratuitous, but fit, and it was so beautifully written. Descriptions of scarlet ribbons streaming from throats. After I finished, I suddenly realized that this final section must be a reference/homage to the Odyssey and Odysseus’s slaughtering of the suitors, which was also a bloodbath.

3

When Scott and I walked into Costco, we discovered that they were offering free, no appointment necessary, flu and COVID shots. Nice! We needed them so we waited about 5 minutes and then got jabbed. So convenient! Past Sara, who drove up to Duluth to get her first vaccine in 2021, would be shocked.

Lena Smith Boulevard

Last year — 29 jan 2024 — I wrote about an effort to rename Edmund Boulevard because of its namesake, Edmund Walton, who was responsible for racial covenants in this area and across Minneapolis. The efforts of community members and a community organization worked! The boulevard is being renamed after Minnesota’s first black woman lawyer, Lena Smith. The renaming was approved on sept 11, 2025. When will we see new street signs?

I’m thinking of this renaming today because I’m working on poems related to Air. Ever since I read a few lines in Gorge Management Plan from Minneapolis parks about this boulevard as a threshold space, I’ve wanted to write something about it. Now I want to add in some lines about the renaming, and the ongoing history of this place, and who is and isn’t given access to these open spaces.

Speaking of AIR, I’ve also wanted to write about lungs and breath and idea of room to breathe out by the gorge. A thought just popped into my head: the Canadian wild fires! I’ve been writing about the Air Quality Index and the thick smoke that travels south from Canadian wild fires for a few years on this blog. Maybe that could be part of my AIR section, too?

oct 4/RUN

3.25 miles
2 trails + ravine
72 degrees
dew point: 62

8:30 in the morning and 72? Ugh. I’m glad it’s cooling down on Monday. My IT band felt strange for the first few minutes, but after that I forgot about it.

10 Things

  1. noticed the difference in drips at the 2 ledges — one concrete, one limestone — in the ravine between the 35th and 36th street parking lots — the concrete ledge, which was higher up, dripped less and slower
  2. a greeting from Mr. Morning!
  3. a peloton — 2 dozen bikers? — on the bike path
  4. not much yellow, but lots of red and orange
  5. the Winchell Trail was muddy parts — when did it rain?
  6. almost running into a walker, thinking that I was coming up behind them instead of them coming towards me — sometimes I can’t tell when someone is facing me or turned away
  7. the trail through the oak savanna: only a swirl of leaves and mulch
  8. a little more of a view at the edge of the world and the folwell bench
  9. a thick haze, trapped in the oaks in the savanna
  10. the surface of the river burning white
the surface of the river burning through the trees / Rachel Dow Memorial Bench

I decided to take a video of the river instead of a photo; I wanted to capture the movement of the light on the surface.

for future Sara: Ran past a house all gussied up for Halloween on 34th near Seven Oaks. A figure in black leaning over the fence, graves and skeletons in the front yard. I need to walk by here at night.

Listened to water trickling and voices below for the 2.5 miles of the run. Put in Taylor Swift’s new album for the last bit.

excerpt from Karma Affirmation Cistern Don’t Be Afraid Keep Going Toward the Horror / Gabrielle Calvocoressi

it’s okay. To know you’re part craven smuggler.
Part thief. Maybe if you know your animal.
I mean really know your animal.
You won’t become a builder of factories
or slave ships. Maybe instead of building
a ship somewhere in your body
you just let yourself feel the pain and
humiliation. No need to make it beautiful
for some future reader. Just say how much
you wanted to hurt someone like you got hurt.
And then just watch that for a while. It’s okay
to feel horribly ashamed. Best not to look away.
The gate to joy is past the factory and past
the reader and maybe it’s past your last breath
on this planet. There’s nothing you can do about it.
You come from the cistern of brutality
and hunger. You are the resonator. Just breathe.

Best not to look away. Wow! On the Poetry Foundation site, the poet reads this poem and they do a great job.

sept 30/RUN

4.1 miles
river road, north/south
65 degrees
humidity: 75%

Yesterday, it was almost 90 degrees. It will be in the 80s all this week. Ugh. I’m ready for cooler weather! I felt okay during the run, but now, after it, I’m wiped out. Thankfully, the sun was hidden behind a thick layer of clouds. I ran the entire first mile, then the second with one walk break in the center, and the third: run 3 mins, walk 1 min.

10 Things

  1. 2 packs of male runners, around a dozen in each pack, a gap of 20 or 30 seconds between each — the U of M or Macalester or St. Thomas cross country team?
  2. exchanged greetings with Mr. Morning! He was wearing a bright orange t-shirt
  3. some more red leaves as I descended into the tunnel of trees
  4. 3 stones stacked on the ancient boulder
  5. a steady stream of cars on the road
  6. a man standing above the limestone steps that lead to the Winchell Trail near the trestle, waiting
  7. someone sitting at the sliding bench — have I ever sat on the bench? it looks too precarious, right on the edge of a steep slope
  8. the crack just north of the trestle is still cracking
  9. a bird: cheesburger cheeseburger cheeseburger (a black-capped chickadee)
  10. the Welcoming Oaks are still green

My mom died 16 years ago today. I wanted to think about her on the run, but I was too distracted by my effort and the humid conditions. For the second half of my run and part of my walk home, I listened to my “Doin’ Time” playlist. Some lyrics in the last song I heard made me think of my mom. Time will heal from Time Song/ the Kinks. I thought about how much time has passed since Mom died and how I feel her absence less intensely than I used to. I wouldn’t call it healing; just finding ways to live with the grief.

listing

I want to include some 10 Things lists in my Girl Ghost Gorge collection. Partly because they are part of my practice, and partly because the writing of lists, and the gathering of things noticed that listing involves, is a way to create substance to my ghost-like, untethered self. It is also a way to ease my restlessness. The idea — if I write enough lists, I’ll get tired and/or stop being so restless and unsatisfied. I’m not sure how many lists to do. Maybe 4? One for each season?

sept 17/RUNBIKESWIM

4 miles
the monument and back
72 degrees
humidity: 80% / dew point: 64

More gnats, more heat, more sweat. Ran over the lake street bridge and up the summit hill to the Monument. Ran the first mile, did 2 minutes running/ 1 minute walking for the second mile, and mostly running, some walking for the rest. My right knee was sore because the kneecap slid out last night. I had to pop it back into place by going up and down the stairs. When it slides out it rubs the tendons or ligaments or something and they’re sore the next day. No big deal.

10 Things

  1. a bunch of kids sitting on the sidewalk outside of the church with the daycare — an adult called out to some other adult, I checked the website. They should be picking them up by 9
  2. a gnat flew into my eye — all the way, now the corner of my eye is sore
  3. no rowers on the river, only small waves
  4. peering over the side on the lake street bridge, checking out the sandbar. How far below the surface is it? How deep is the water around it?
  5. the faint sound of falling water at shadow falls
  6. a railing in front of a neighbor’s house, adorned with garlands and lights
  7. several wide cracks on the trail halfway down the summit hill, outlined in orange
  8. running up the summit hill, hearing a biker slowly approaching then creeping past me
  9. checking my watch during a walk break, the numbers blurred and difficult to see — a combination of my bad vision and feeling slightly dizzy/dazed from the heat
  10. the jingling of my house key in my pack, the thudding of my pack against my shorts

I don’t remember much from the run because it was hot and tiring. What did I think about?

Listened to kids, cars, random voices, and a dog barking running to the Monument. Put in my “The Wheeling Life” playlist on the way back. First song up, “Day by Day” from Godspell. In this song., the wheel is moving forward, progressing towards a better relationship with God. Wow — Jesus-rock was a thing in the 70s. The refrain for the song:

Day by day, day by day, oh dear Lord, three things I pray, to see thee more clearly, love thee more dearly, follow thee more nearly. Day by day.

bike: 7.5 miles
lake nokomis and back
79/75 degrees

Earlier today, Scott and I drove by lake nokomis and we noticed that the buoys were still up, so we decided to bike over to the lake in the late afternoon. If the blue algae was gone, I’d swim. So we did, and it was! The bike ride was great, even if it was windy. The thing I remember most about the bike was hearing the twack of the pickle ball at a pickle court on the way there, and a tennis court on the way back. Also: someone mowing their lawn and kids playing at the lake nokomis rec center playground.

swim: 2 loops
lake nokomis main beach
76 degrees

The water was clearer and warmer and slightly less choppy than the last time I was here. Still too many vines reaching up from the bottom. I had to swim farther out in the lake to avoid them. Saw at least 2 paddle boarders, a sailboat, a kayak. No fish, but seagulls. Heard geese honking from the other shore. Some adult was playing with a kid and calling out, Nestea Plunge. Yes! I can still picture the dude standing with his back to the pool, falling back into the water.

Noticed the mucked-up underside of a once red, now pinkish orange buoy. Was fascinated by the bubbles on the otherwise smooth surface of the water. Felt some thin vine tendrils encircling my wrist, some thicker and sharper vines brushing against my leg. I don’t remember seeing any planes, but I do remember some wispy clouds.

sept 14/RUN

4.1 miles
river road north/south
70 degrees
humidity: 88% / dew point: 68

Ugh! Uncomfortably warm again today. A flushed face and dripping ponytail. Was able to greet 2 regulars: Dave, the Daily Walker and Mr. Morning! Admired sparkles on the water, heard the coxswain from below, smelled the sourness of the sewer. I tried to do my “beat” experiment:

mile 1: triple berry chants strawberry/raspberry/blueberry
mile 2: listen to metronome at 175
mile 3: listen to music

I went too fast with the triple berries, then didn’t have the metronome turned up enough to feel the beat. By the time I got to mile 3, I was overheating. After that, it was difficult to run for that long. Lots of walking. I’ll have to try this experiment again when it is much cooler.

For the Girl Ghost Gorge collection I’m working on, I’ve decided to add some You Are Here poems: poems that locate me/the reader in one particular (and meaningful to me) location above or with or among the gorge.

possible you are here locations

  1. the trestle
  2. folwell bench
  3. sliding bench
  4. the edge of the world
  5. double bridge
  6. ancient boulder with stacked stones
  7. franklin hill
  8. turkey hollow
  9. 44th street ravine
  10. 42nd street ravine
  11. 35th street ravine
  12. welcoming oaks

sept 13/RUN

3.25 miles
locks and dam no 1 and back
73 degrees
humidity: 67

Typical September weather in Minneapolis: cool, then hot, then hotter. I went out for my run late because I was watching Vingegaard finally show some panache on the final, ridiculously steep, climb of the Vuelta. Perhaps the most memorable thing about the Vuelta this year were the pro-Palestinian protesters. They disrupted several of the stages, resulting in the shortening of at least 2 of them, including the individual time trial. Mostly they peacefully (I think) occupied the finish line or lined the course with Palestinian flags. A few groups were more disruptive: cutting down a tree to block the road, running down from a hill and almost hitting some of the riders, and today, blocking the road and (possibly?) tackling one of the riders. I support the protesters and their movement, even as I disagree with some of their tactics that put the riders at risk.

10 Things

  1. 2 runners ahead of me, one in an orange vest. when I passed them, I overheard one say to the other, only 1.3 miles left. we can do it.
  2. same runners, later, walking, one to the other: you go ahead, I’m walking the rest
  3. the wheels of a roller skier, sounding rickety and rusted — or was it the uneven asphalt?
  4. leaves floating in the wind, looking like flying birds
  5. pale blue water below
  6. encountering a guy with a dog: excuse me / oh — you scared me, you’re quiet / I’m sorry / no, that’s a good thing I thought: me, the running ninja
  7. a coxswain’s voice below — rowers!
  8. a small peloton on the road
  9. an organized run, probably a 20 miler for the upcoming marathon — participants were wearing orange vests
  10. the tree that was blocking most of the winchell trail has finally been moved

It was tough out there. I chanted a reminder in triples: in the heat/time on feet. Because it’s so hot, I’m not worrying about how slow I’m going, or how much of it I’m walking instead of running. It’s all about just getting out there and spending time moving.

Just discovered this book! I’m hoping I can find it in a library somewhere:

Out the front door, across the street, down the hill, and into Van Cortlandt Park in the Bronx. This is how Ben Ratliff’s runs started most days of the week for about a decade. Sometimes listening to music, not always. Then, at the beginning of the pandemic, he began taking notes about what he listened to. He wondered if a body in motion, his body, was helping him to listen better to the motion in music.

Run the Song: Writing About Running About Listening/ Ben Ratliff

sept 11/RUN

4.5 miles
monument and back
60 degrees
humidity: 93%

A mist hanging above the river. A heavy white sky. It looked very cool, but felt too humid. Heavy legs. Not a great run, but still wonderful to be moving through the mist. Noticed more leaves changing, mostly yellow. Heard water falling in the Summit ravine: Shadow Falls. I imagined that it was not water falling, but shadows. Then I thought about myself shedding shadows as I ran. A cool image.

On the lake street bridge heading west, 2 more memoriable images.

First, a single shell on the river, rowing towards the mist. The rower in a bright yellow shirt. I couldn’t hear the paddles, but saw them gliding through the water.

Second, looking down at the shadow of the bridge: dark with a quivering edge. I thought about how all edges I see are often moving like this. The moving edge of the bridge is because of wind on water. The moving edges for me are because of dying cone cells.

bridge shadow, moving edge

Recited some of the chants I’ve been working on:

girl ghost gorge
soft slow sight

saint peter saint peter saint peter sandstone
glenwood glenwood glenwood forMAtion
plateville platteville plateville limeston
glac ial till
glac ial till

In the late afternoon, Scott and I went to the lake. He was planning to take a walk, I was going to swim. I even brought my wetsuit. But, when I went down to the water, I immediately knew it wasn’t going to happen. The water lapping the shore was bright green and the water beyond it looked like green paint. Blue-green algae blooms. Maybe the blue-green algae was only in this spot, but probably it wasn’t. I decided it wasn’t worth the risk. So I took off my wetsuit and went for a walk with Scott instead.

sept 10/RUN

4 miles
river road, north/south
65 degrees
humidity: 87%

Went out for my run later than I’d like because I was watching the final climb on the Vuelta. I was hoping Vingegaard would do something special but sadly he didn’t have the legs (as commentator Christian likes to say). Other favorite phrases from Bob and Christian on Peacock’s coverage of the tour: going from strength to strength, fire power, full cry, and Jonas & co..

The run was a little difficult, partly because of the humidity, partly because of my need for a port-a-potty. Sigh. Oh — and the front of my left knee felt weird — tight? — for the first 5 or so minutes. Even with the difficulty, there were moments I felt strong and bouncy. I did a few strides (sprints, fast bursts) at the end.

Thinking about Girl Ghost Gorge some more, working on triple chants related to rock.

st. peter sandstone
st. peter sandstone
st. peter sandstone
limestone shale

platteville limestone
platteville limestone
platteville limestone
shale sandstone

10 Things

  1. a big orange X spray painted on a tree
  2. another orange x, smaller, painted on another tree
  3. gushing ravine
  4. more yellowing trees
  5. hello friend! to the still green welcoming oaks
  6. tunnel of trees — red leaves on the path, green on the branches
  7. orange construction signs — road closed ahead E. Franklin
  8. click clack click clack a roller skier
  9. ghost bike for June hanging high in the trestle — dried flowers wound through the spokes
  10. the sharp bark of a dog below, on the winchell trail