The rewards of getting lost in the woods

Though it rarely happens, I did get a little lost today. I parked on Meetinghouse Road and headed down the incredibly icy, steep hill. Though its been nearly 60 degrees lately, that hill is still covered with thick, slippery ice. Its nothing short of treacherous. I can see now why they keep that road closed in the winter. But, the (unpaved) road is gorgeous and its hard to believe that I'm just three miles outside of Amherst when I'm there.

I veered off Meetinghouse to head up to the Reservoir to take a look at things. The late afternoon sun was gorgeous, and though I had planned to stay at the reservoir for just a bit and then head back over to Buffam Falls, I ended up taking a little trail off the reservoir back up into the hills. The trail is unmarked and narrow, but I had been on it once before this winter when I was out cross-country skiing. I stayed on the trail much longer this time than I had before, and headed into the backcountry along private property markers and up and down rolling hills. The trail eventually petered out a bit, and my only option appeared to be heading down a small side trail and into some private fields that had formerly been cordoned off by a gate. But the gate was down, and I thought I could find a way back to Meetinghouse by cutting through the field. It wasn't meant to be: the field really was a dead end, and some guy on the far end of the field was watching me trespass on his land (had I been in Montana, the same guy would've gotten on his 3-wheeler and come after me or shot a gun or something). Fortunately this guy wasn't the type.

I got a little lost on my way back, as I took a wrong turn and headed back down to a creek which was very beautiful. I would've liked to have stayed and explored, but the sun was beginning to get a little lower in the sky and I had a kid to pick up from school. Another day.

Whether it was because I had a moment of being lost, or whether it was the exhilaration of running in a new place, I felt a certain freedom and lightness in running today that I haven't felt in months (or maybe even a year). These various injuries have bogged me down, and lately I have felt more like a trudger than a runner. But today, if only for a few minutes, I felt different. I felt really connected to the trail and connected to myself, if that's possible. I had a sense of who I was, and stopped worrying about who I should become.

It reminds me of a line from a new Melissa Etheridge song I heard on the radio the other day. I think the name of the song is Fearless Love. One of the verses says something like "I am what I am". Its a very simple thing to say, but its brilliant. I'm not sure I'm always ok with saying "I am what I am". But on days like today, if only for a moment or two in the middle of the forest, I can say, "I am what I am", and feel ok about it.