Dipping My Toes

While the sub-zero wind chill didn’t dampen the beauty of the sunset’s soft glow on Lake Superior, I did not dip my toes in the frigid waters while taking a break mid-run to soak in the scene. But I have resolved to dip my toes back into blogging this year, after extended breaks the last couple years.

As I ran and took in the cold air that cleared my head, pausing as the moon rose above the “Belt of Venus”, it struck me that Mother Earth was sending up a beacon of hope and light. May this year be filled with more of those themes.

Look forward to interacting with you all in the blogosphere on a more regular basis in 2019!

Cheers!

Moonrise during Sunset on Lake Superior

~ Kat

Don’t Take a Sunset for Granted (30 Days of Gratitude: Day 26)

Even when the scene is one that becomes routine (whether it be your home, your city, your favorite trail …), Mother Nature often has a way of reminding us to pause and be awed, and appreciate the landscape as if seen for the first time.

~ Kat

Saturday Morning Run (30 Days of Gratitude: Day 18)

The fog-like clouds hung low over Lake Superior, the sun trying to push through and welcome the day.

November morning on Lake Superior

Peer pressure is a good thing … when the temperature is in the 20’s (Fahrenheit), and it is more tempting to hit the snooze button rather than roll out of bed and dig out the winter running layers.

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We were reminded how fortunate we are in Duluth to have countless trails and roads with amazing views — every season of the year.

Birch Trees on a Rocky Crag in Duluth

Always grateful for the run.

~ Kat

Love Nature More (30 Days of Gratitude: Day 5)

I usually do not condone graffiti, but have to admit this inscription on a large rock brought a smile to our faces as my friends and I walked along Lake Superior’s Brighton Beach.

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Lord Byron’s words are fitting, given the fury Lake Superior unleashed just over a week ago, rearranging the shoreline and man-made paths.

Reminders of Lake Superior's power along Brighton Beach

“There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
There is society, where none intrudes,
By the deep Sea, and music in its roar:
I love not Man the less, but Nature more,
From these our interviews, in which I steal
From all I may be, or have been before,
To mingle with the Universe, and feel
What I can ne’er express, yet cannot all conceal.”

~ Lord George Gordon Byron, from Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage

Lake Superior redecorates Brighton Beach after t

Gratitude for Nature’s gifts, as well as for words that stand the test of time.

~ Kat

Zen on the Trail 

It has been a long week. The candle was burning at both ends most days; I sacrificed some needed sleep to find those extra hours in the day. So when the end of the work day rolled around on Friday, it was tempting to just pour a glass of wine and tell myself I could postpone a run until the weekend.  Finding great camaraderie and motivation through the “Another Mother Runner” podcasts that often keep me company on the road, I signed up for a 5-week training program through the “Train Like a Mother Club” to jump-start the fitness machine after taking a break following the more intense training earlier this year for my June marathon.  Nothing like a  virtual community of training partners to provide some accountability … in addition to my faithful companion.

Today’s training schedule called for a “Zen Run” – leave the GPS watch behind, pull out the ear buds if you run with music, and just go while letting go … It was exactly what I needed.

Corbin was born the year I turned 40, and as I approach another decade marker, Corbin and I both are a little grayer, a little slower, and more appreciative of the little things … OK, perhaps Corbin has always been blessed with that joie de vivre ….

We set out with the intention to enjoy a leisurely 3-mile loop on the trails before the sun set.  While the days are growing shorter, tonight still had echoes of summer …. almost 70 degrees, a tad humid (by Duluth standards), and forest sounds more reminiscent of August than September.  As my trusty pal has aged, he has become more sensitive to the warmer temperatures, particularly if the humidity is up, so he did not stray far from my side as we trotted along at an easy pace.

Corbin used to pull me up the hills with my hands-free leash around my waist. This evening, I found him preferring to slow to no more than a fast walk up even the smaller inclines.

The somewhat muggy conditions on the trail made for a perfect meditative pace.  We jogged, we walked, we took note of the signs of the changing seasons.

When Corbin was younger, he would run twice as far as I would on a trail run, looping out and coming back to me, again and again.  Now, he was just as happy to stop at the river overlook and catch his breath as I caught mine, before we started off again.

I admit to feeling my eyes fill with tears at one point as we ran along, realizing that this very well could be my last fall running with my dear four-legged friend on these trails, given how much he has slowed down over the past year.  I was reminded, though, that Corbin is blessed with that gift that we all seek — enjoying and living in the moment.  As we trotted side by side, he looked up at me with a grin.  I let go of the worries of what the months ahead may hold. We just ran and I was grateful for the time we had right now.

I got my zen on and cleared my head, noticing the gifts that Mother Nature had placed for us to enjoy along the way.

We paused periodically to admire the treasures of the great outdoors.

The diversity and delicate details on the forest floor are awe-inspiring if you take a moment to truly appreciate them.

We extended our 3-mile loop, by another mile or so, continuing to intersperse walking with running.  I let Corbin set the pace – he would slow on an upward incline, and then once the trail sloped downward or flattened out, he would start trotting along again.  We embraced the silence between us, and filled it with the evening sounds of the woods.

Our relaxing evening jaunt came to a close, and the sun started to peek through the gray cloud cover.

We made a brief detour before heading home, and stopped to say good evening to Lake Superior. Peaceful and serene, the big lake embodied that zen I sought and found on the trails with my dear friend.

Ciao! ~ Kat