Twelve Miles To Heaven

Running in the evening is quite different than in the morning. The state of mind is much different. Rather than getting a brisk start to the day ahead, one feels like they are putting a nice, waning close to the day’s trials.

The intent of this evening’s run was to be a step up. Or rather, a step farther, with a goal of 12 miles. From the house on Old Cass Road to Pine Grove Road near Boyer and back. I hadn’t run such a distance in 22 years.

I began about 6:30pm. Immediately as I headed away from the house, a council of crickets commanded my attention. A steady hum, more than percolating pulses. Yes, that hum. That rested, fall-like hum. These guys were not singing of summer. They were omening of autumn. I wondered, just to make sure, what the date was. The encounter was, kind of, offensive. Imagine a major department store during the first week of November, for some reason full of crickets along the racks and shelves, by the thousands, pushing Christmas merchandise into the paths of unwitting shoppers. You’re actually there for something not yet Christmassy, and then your foot hits a gift-wrapped present in the floor. You look down, and there are all these smiling crickets producing the present up to you. Unexpected, if not weird, but I suppose not entirely unwelcomed either. What can you do but observe? It was like that. “Thank you kindly, but I’m just here for summer today.”

Not your typical first mile.

The next couple of miles were by contrast typical, en route to the Green Bank Post Office. But when I didn’t turn around at the post office—3 miles, the usual 6 mile turnaround point—my legs began asking questions. “Don’t worry, you’re one-quarter the way home,” I attempted.

The crickets were becoming more gruff and dusk-like.

Straight out from the NRAO airstrip, I looked along its run towards the distant Green Bank Telescope. But my gaze was presently blocked and returned by some 10-12 deer grazing between the strip and me. Snort! Scatter! Sorry. An EMT was finishing up an ambulance run at the Green Bank BFD station. Sprint the short hill to the NRAO entrance.

Taking a left into residential Arbovale, the quietly setting evening amplified the clop-clop of my shoes. I felt kind of loud. Yes, Trent’s does have drink machines, so I will stop there on the return for some rehydration! That’ll work fine.

When I didn’t stop at the “rabbit patch” leaving Arbovale, my legs objected. “Okay, this is the 5-mile point, time to turn around!” On my 10-mile runs, this has always been the end of the road. “Don’t worry, you’re nearly half way home,” I told my legs in the hopes of quelling a mutiny.

Then down the hill out of Arbovale. Downhill is fine for bicycles and cars, but it isn’t really any easier on the legs than any other direction. Thump thump thump thump. I actually like the uphills better, because they are smooth. Wish granted. Burn burn burn burn. ’Tis the nature of running along roller coaster track.

At the half-way point near Pine Grove Road, dusk was well underway. I stopped for a few minutes to take in the westward vista. I’d never stood here at this spot before, and certainly not at such an opportune time of day. Towards Green Bank in the southwest, the sky was pink, lavender, gray-blue, blending into deep blue as my eyes panned right and west overlooking Back Allegheny Mountain. The following is from my journal a few years back, after a pleasant evening drive:

My heart is not tired. And now, neither are my legs. Runners call it second wind.

I begin the return trip, continuing my admiring gaze westward into the sky and mountain blend. The sun is presenting a last gasp, as four transparent crimson sunbeams radiate from behind Back Allegheny, up through the sparse, dark cloud cover and over my head indicating east. My eyes follow. To Jupiter! Well, hello there. Jupiter is easy to see this time of year in the eastern evening. It is easily the brightest “star.” With a decent pair of 10x binoculars, you can see its round shape and usually 4 of its moons. As I am looking at it, it just isn’t quite dark enough for the real stars to pinhole through dusk’s curtain.

Arriving at Trent’s on the return, it is simply dark now. My 50 cents in, I go for the water. Sold out. Grape soda pop does absolutely just fine. Devoured, I clop-clop my way around and out of Arbovale.

At the Green Bank BFD station, my legs expire the last of the second wind. It is night, I am tired, and the remaining 4 miles of this run will be a told-you-so monologue from my legs towards me. I look up as I stretch my shoulders, and am pleased to be surprised by a number of stars gazing back down. Scorpius! I used to know a good number of constellations, but only a few can I remember now. Scorpius is a kind of easy one, with 3 stars in a vertical line forming its head region, and a string of stars trailing and curling back form its body and tail. Two stars ahead represent its pinchers. This time of year, Scorpius is nearly setting in the west by evening.

The admiration and searching of constellations thankfully makes the last miles pass quickly. Crickets and such are very loud now. The straight stretch from the Deer Creek bridge towards the old Meck’s Bakery is gray and black, not unlike space itself. As Scorpius bids farewell behind the hills towards Edray, I notice for the first time that its tail wraps around the Milky Way, that band of billions of stars forming the plane of our galaxy. A prominent galactic strip of dust cuts through the Milky Way just above where Scorpius has anchored itself.

When I make the last turn onto Old Cass Road, the tree cover defeats the star light. I really can’t see where I’m going, and run off onto the shoulder right and then soon left. Then a most appreciated and leading thing happened. A dim yellow flicker on the ground. Then another. Another over there, on the other side. Slowly, left and right, a string of fireflies residing in the grass along the road’s shoulders began to beacon. I looked up again and watched the blinking stars, in and out of invisible tree limbs. I looked down and continued safely between the left and right flanks of ground-bound stars. Clearly, I was running through space and heaven itself.

There was no way I was not going to make it home now. “Told you,” I offered in peace. My legs were speechless.

DF

Sign up to receive email alerts about website updates and postings.