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road trip day #3: vermont by the end of the day (evening) = :0

August 5, 2011 (Afternoon)

Exercise Type: Run

Weather: if anything is perfect, this was

Comments:
Where am I??? But as my mind eased into thoughtfulness, I decided that it didn't matter. It didn't matter where I was or the name of the street I was on. It didn't matter where my mile pace was at or where anyone else's was. All that mattered was this - this moment - living in this moment. My eyes involuntarily fell shut, and I allowed the sounds - the birds, the breeze, the stream - to guide me down the road. When my eyelids were ready to open, my eyes adjusted to the light. I was suddenly running past a still, placid pond. As I passed, I contemplated the reflection of a moving figure, a figure of composed strength. That is who I want to be, I decided.
Ok, lets back up...
When I arrived at the Doorset Inn, I was in for a shock. my dad had driven us miles and miles away from civilization on a two-laned state highway of Vermont thru the mountains. It did occur to me that we were headed towards a little town, but this was something else entirely. We passed several of those tiny towns b4 reaching this inn that was in, well, I hardly think u can call it a town. We were told it's the oldest inn in Vermont, and I certainly agreed. I do love a place with a sense of history. After given a tour, we were on a first name basis with the inn-keeper. THERE WAS NO CELL SERVICE AND HARDLY ANY INTERNET. There was a pleasant backyard with porch chairs, and colorful bunches of flowers around front - one of those perennials, typical of the English garden. I could feel the colonial influence. Once I got over the initial shock of being in a completely different setting, I adjusted quite well. B4 I knew it, I felt more at home here than in my own house. Finally, we were all settled into our room and I immediately took off for a run.
Hardly any cars disrupted the balance of nature's sounds in the backdrop. Taking this silent road, I was reminded of xc camp - but better. On both sides, I was surrounded by dispersed little houses, each with their own perennial garden and set of porch chairs in the center of a green overlooking the majestically mountainous landscape. Even on this grey day, the clowds came with their sense of calm. My DC climate never brought clowds like these. After taking in the inspiring peace of the mountains, I took a second look at the houses. They were all so beautiful, and I couldn't make sense of who lived here - such beautiful homes must cost, but was there really much in the way of competition and business in the middle of nowhere, in an agricultural area in which on house's backyard even had ponies? As I thought, I was filled with a new sense of calm, and any sense of competition seemed to evaporate with the DC humidity that I'd left behind back home.
I felt a sudden urge to skip thru the medow, pick a wild flower, and chase a butterfly ("flutter-by"). But realizing how childish it was to frolic thru a field, I refrained.
I couldn't figure any landmarks near where I was. I couldn't picture in my mind where we were, where this blissful place was on the map.
Where am I??? But as m mind eased into thoughtfulness, I decided that it didn't matter. It didn't matter where I was or the name of the street I was on. It didn't matter where my mile pace was at or where anyone else's was. All that mattered was this - this moment - living in this moment. My eyes involuntarily fell shut, and I allowed the sounds - the birds, the breeze, the stream - to guide me down the road. When my eyelids were ready to open, my eyes adjusted to the light. I was suddenly running past a still, placid pond. As I passed, I contemplated the reflection of a moving figure, a figure of composed strength. That is who I want to be, I decided.