A Long Run

Since the Cowtown half, today was my first real long run again, and I could feel the small sense of return settling in with every mile. I ran 7.5 miles through the Woodland's trail system in Houston,

easing back into the rhythm of distance after letting my body recover. There is something so different about starting without the adrenaline of a starting line or the pressure of knowing I have to train for a race. I love just moving forward for myself and letting the miles unfold behind me.

I started my run along the river path, with a congestion of people nearby, enjoying their sunny mornings. About two miles in, I turned a corner and the footpath thinned out. The road ran along one side of me and a creek stretching along the other. Cars moved past, loud and fast, while the water beside me felt slower and muted, bordered by thick green growth that almost seemed to spill into the water. Even in the middle of the city, the creek created its own pocket of calm.

The greenery looked vivid, dense and bright in a way that made the air feel heavier, but more alive. The entire stretch felt more hidden than I would expect, like nature was trying not to be noticed.

At one point, I passed a bird near the edge of the river that immediately caught my attention. In the moment, it looked like some weird combination of a rooster and a mallard with dark feathers and a bright red face. Later I learned it was a Muscovy duck, but during the run it was one more unexpected detail my run offered.