There’s this little hill I visit almost once a week. It’s nestled into a 100-acre wood in the middle of the city. The park looks like nothing more than an open green field from the road. It’s a drive-by place for many. Not everyone realizes there are these beautiful stone steps, the hills and ravines, and Williams Creek hidden through the wood. When I take people there, I often hear: I had no idea this was back here!
It’s a little less secret than it used to be. The pandemic helped spread the word. With a lot of swimming pools closed, people discovered you could swim in the creek. That’s ok. I can share. While I miss the relative peace once in while, I want others to love this place as much as I do.
I do hill repeats there. I call it My Little Hill, like I own it. But really it feels more like a friend. I’ve become that person who says Hello, and See ya next time. Going at sunset is the best, as the trees filter the light just so over the hillside. It looks dreamy, magical. The hill is rooty, rocky, and short, but steep. Once I spooked a snake barreling down its slope. I think I’ve done 12 repeats at a time, maybe 15. Sometimes I daydream about upping it to 20, to 100. My strange way of further tethering to this spot.
#WriteAsRun Prompt No. 27: Ode to place.
Are you in love with a hill? A trail? Maybe it’s the road that does it for you. Tell the story of your running place and why you’re attached.
October 8, 2021