Today was a long run, longer than I've ever run. Twelve miles. The West Orange Trail has been the path of choice over the past few weeks for the longer runs. It begins on the border of Orange County and Lake County, and runs east into Orange. It's nice and Florida flat with old time Florida towns, and water fountains along the way. I arrived at 7am, and went the opposite way for a little variety. HOLY HILLS!! Who the hell imported those things? Florida is the largest sandbar in the United States, and is supposed to be FFFFFLLLLLLAAAAAATTTTTT!
The Lake County trail leads west to Claremont, which is farther than I'll need to run in training. That is if I ever run that direction again. The trail itself - both the Orange County and Lake County versions - is a former railroad. Lake County didn't have any of the amenities on the Orange side. No water fountains. No bathrooms. Just pavement, hills, and spiders the size of your hands lining the trail in their webs. And cattle. Did I mention the hills? I was very thankful I brought my water belt with four of the six bottles filled with water. It added about five pounds, but water in the Florida summer sun is not optional. Did I mention the hills?
Growing up, I spent summers in Iowa. My grandparents lived about a half hour west of Des Moines on 1,800 acres where my grandfather raised cattle (he was a lawyer during the day, and a cowboy at night and on the weekends). I have fond memories of sitting proudly next to my grandfather on the bench seat in his pickup, dust from the gravel road trailing us like a tornado on its side. Whenever someone approached us heading the opposite direction, my grandfather would lift two fingers off the steering wheel. The other driver always responded, lifting two fingers off the steering wheel. Cowboy code. In it together.
On the trail, I do the same. We're in it together. Figure it's best to acknowledge that. On the West Orange / Lake County Trails I've noticed runners acknowledge each other. Bikers, notsomuch.
Exchange Between Runners
Me: "Good morning!" lifting fingers of left hand in an acknowledging gesture.
Stranger Runner or Walker: "Mornin'," lifting fingers of left hand, returning the gesture.
Exchange Between Runner and Biker
Me: "Good morning!" lifting fingers of left hand in an acknowledging gesture.
Stranger Biker: " . . . . . . . . . " eyes focused on road ahead, whistling by.
Me: "I'm doing ok, thanks for asking."
Of course, this is a general observation. I have many friends and family who are bikers, and they're wonderful, friendly and inspiring people, with interesting and engaging personalities. But the bikers on the West Orange and Lake County Trails are not that. They ride along with their helmets, sunglasses, tight outfits and water bottles with their wheels, alternating pedaling with coasting, and completely self-absorbed. I assumed all of us out there on the trail together were in it together. Apparently not and that's fine. It is what it is. This ain't Iowa.
Around the 11th mile, there was an exception to my general observation. I approached a biker sitting on a bench in the shade, eating a bar. Two bikers passed me from behind, and one turned around and said, "Man, you still runnin'? When you get to the ocean, you'll have to stop." I responded, "Either that, or take up swimming." The biker sitting down chimed in, "That'll get you in shape." We ARE in it together. Some just choose to acknowledge it while others choose to ignore it.
That's pretty much true in many areas of life, isn't it?
The Lake County trail leads west to Claremont, which is farther than I'll need to run in training. That is if I ever run that direction again. The trail itself - both the Orange County and Lake County versions - is a former railroad. Lake County didn't have any of the amenities on the Orange side. No water fountains. No bathrooms. Just pavement, hills, and spiders the size of your hands lining the trail in their webs. And cattle. Did I mention the hills? I was very thankful I brought my water belt with four of the six bottles filled with water. It added about five pounds, but water in the Florida summer sun is not optional. Did I mention the hills?
Growing up, I spent summers in Iowa. My grandparents lived about a half hour west of Des Moines on 1,800 acres where my grandfather raised cattle (he was a lawyer during the day, and a cowboy at night and on the weekends). I have fond memories of sitting proudly next to my grandfather on the bench seat in his pickup, dust from the gravel road trailing us like a tornado on its side. Whenever someone approached us heading the opposite direction, my grandfather would lift two fingers off the steering wheel. The other driver always responded, lifting two fingers off the steering wheel. Cowboy code. In it together.
On the trail, I do the same. We're in it together. Figure it's best to acknowledge that. On the West Orange / Lake County Trails I've noticed runners acknowledge each other. Bikers, notsomuch.
Exchange Between Runners
Me: "Good morning!" lifting fingers of left hand in an acknowledging gesture.
Stranger Runner or Walker: "Mornin'," lifting fingers of left hand, returning the gesture.
Exchange Between Runner and Biker
Me: "Good morning!" lifting fingers of left hand in an acknowledging gesture.
Stranger Biker: " . . . . . . . . . " eyes focused on road ahead, whistling by.
Me: "I'm doing ok, thanks for asking."
Of course, this is a general observation. I have many friends and family who are bikers, and they're wonderful, friendly and inspiring people, with interesting and engaging personalities. But the bikers on the West Orange and Lake County Trails are not that. They ride along with their helmets, sunglasses, tight outfits and water bottles with their wheels, alternating pedaling with coasting, and completely self-absorbed. I assumed all of us out there on the trail together were in it together. Apparently not and that's fine. It is what it is. This ain't Iowa.
Around the 11th mile, there was an exception to my general observation. I approached a biker sitting on a bench in the shade, eating a bar. Two bikers passed me from behind, and one turned around and said, "Man, you still runnin'? When you get to the ocean, you'll have to stop." I responded, "Either that, or take up swimming." The biker sitting down chimed in, "That'll get you in shape." We ARE in it together. Some just choose to acknowledge it while others choose to ignore it.
That's pretty much true in many areas of life, isn't it?
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