The uneven cracks in the sidewalk always move perpendicular
to my stride when I run. I can tell which lawns are tended to most regularly,
and where the uneven dirt paths collide once again with the unforgiving
concrete.
When I run, I have surrendered to the habit of
looking down at the path ahead of me. For this reason, I recognize my regular
running peers more certainly by their shoes and laces rather than their
sweat-covered faces. For a number of years, as a distance runner, I’ve plotted
my route before starting the stopwatch on my wrist and I take off at a jog only
looking up at streets signs or passersby. At the beginning of this week,
however, I uncovered a trail run interconnected with several other unexplored
paths that had my sights set on the horizon, rather than the ground; up, rather
than down.
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| The trail to Horsetooth Rock |
On the western flank of Fort Collins lies an
outdoor playground. Horsetooth Reservoir sees travelers in search of water
sports, picnics, biking, jogging, boating, etc. At the foothills, just east of
the Reservoir is Spring Canyon Community Park. Laden with just enough toddlers
and far too many dogs, this is usually the point at which I turn around on my
runs. Yet, just beyond this oasis of kids and canines, the Spring Creek Trail
(west) connects with the Fossil Creek Trail. As opposed to Spring Creek, the
Fossil Creek trail is not paved and has several branches from the main path
suitable for mountain bikers and runners alike.
Nestled between the foothills and park, Fossil
Creek trail winds amongst the knee-length brush and nudges you along the dark
green tree line of Horsetooth Park. Like arteries to a heart, the fingers of
the Fossil Creek trail dart around Dixon Reservoir, where fishermen whisper song
lyrics either to themselves or to their potential catches.
Dually, the terrain was all but flat. By no
means, was it a hill tempo run, but I cannot praise this area enough for the
rhythm it urges runners to find in order to keep pace.
As the sun ducked behind the foothills on a run
the other night, the grasses around the thin trail on Fossil Creek remained a
glowing orange. Crickets were fooled by the setting sun and began their nightly
song. And I was able to watch this all in focus, and the whir of my running
feet was now in my periphery.
What a fool I’ve been looking down for so long.
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