Discovery

It isn't every day, even in the Midwest, that you get the opportunity to run in -20 F windchills. It woulda been some sort of sin not to. So, strap on the ski mask and go. Six miles on Saturday through the trails along the Walnut.

The truly cold days on the trail are often defined by the literal creaking of tree trunks, a phenomenon I assume occurs due to the contracting of the wood from the frigidity of the air. Trees were a-crackling.

This morning's run was one of discovery. A seven miler along those same trails, but with a twist. I bushwhacked through the thorny multiflora on the south end of the trail system, across the restored prairie, not something you can do with comfort during green months. I've done this before, but had never followed the wooded draw beyond the grass area. Today I did.

About a half mile back in the draw, along an unnamed creek that eventually flows into the lake, is a decaying old hunting cabin/coop complete with weathered red barn siding.How cool.

Twenty-nine years living in this town, much of it spent exploring the remaining timber that is now our park, and I'd never ventured into this area. What's better than those trail runs that transform you back into kid mode? This run was one of those. If only they all could be.