Sue me. I skipped the Western Massachusetts Regional Library System’s 5k book run. Not that I need to explain anything, but here are my reasons:
- I would have been running in the rain (again),
- I would have made my husband stand around in the rain (again),
- I didn’t have anyone to run with,
- I would have delayed my trip to Maine by four hours,
- I would have missed out on Chipotle, but more importantly,
- I would have missed out on dinner with my lone surviving blood-related grandparent.
Here’s how it all happened: I knew we couldn’t stay past Sunday late afternoon when I agreed to drive to Maine for a family reunion of sorts. I had it in my head I could run the race and then race off to Maine on Saturday. We would stay overnight and head back home the next day. No big deal. Well, the big deal came when I started to consider everything. We decided to run to Maine without running the race.
Sunday morning I was feeling guilty about not running anything anywhere so I decided to slip out for a small run. I told my family 30 minutes at most. But, Belfast is a coastal town inasmuch as it has a great big bay on one side, a cute town on the other and an air of quiet all around. I decided to run along a main road and if a detour to the water enticed me I would go. It wasn’t raining, but a fine mist fell hard enough to dampen my clothes within minutes. In places it felt like running though fog. I didn’t se a soul even through a tiny convenience store was open for business and somewhere a dog barked. A mile into the run I found the city park and couldn’t resist one quick lap inside its gates. Leaves fell gently, one at a time like gigantic bright orange and red snowflakes. Another mile later I ran by the hospital and said small prayers for its patients. A lone gentleman sat outside the front entrance wearing a bathrobe and slippers. When I ran out of sidewalk I ran down Huntress Street (great name, but one hell of a hill), down to the water’s edge. Boats rocked on moorings as silent as the fog. Finally, it was time to turn home. Passing everything I had before I realized how silent and beautiful this part of Maine really is. For a cool down I walked down to the dock and picked an apple from a crooked crab tree and thought about how perfect the run had been. As far as I’m concerned, Belfast does it better. 4.25 miles.