Each year I attend the annual board meeting of the American Discovery Trail Society. I volunteer as their national coordinator of the country's only coast-to-coast trail. We alternate our meetings each year to different locations along the trail. This year it was in Sacramento, California and I just returned from it. Attending the meetings is always a great way to stay connected with my fellow board members and re-energize for another year of progress forward with our trail and programs, but it also offers me the opportunity to run sections of the ADT that I don't get to very often. Over the weekend, I was able to run 15 miles on the American River (home to the American River 50 mile trail race) which is also the ADT from Auburn to Old Sacramento. I also went for a hike on the Western States Trail near Forresthill (also on the ADT).
Running along the American River, the bike path is atop a levee and there are ample locations to sleep in the nearby bushes, hotel fencing, and ravines. Friday morning there was a very large number of people still waking up from their trailside camp spot and a few just setting out on the path for their morning stroll to wherever. I passed a few huddles of people with bikes laden down with sleeping bags, puppies on rope leashes, and piles of beer cans. Some of them were talking to themselves and others just stared at me.
Though there were a few other runners and bikers in the area, I was pretty well removed from roads or commercial activity and started to feel a little nervous during the run. I realized that on my coast to coast run I never felt threatened or intimidated and wondered why the feeling was just now starting to set in. Have I lost my immunity to thinking the best of all people or do people on the street give off a different vibe now than they did 14 years ago?
I'd like to think that people haven't changed - either me or them, just my interpretation of the situation. I tried waving a little as I passed each one, a few fingers raised from one hand, just to acknowledge each person as a person. Most didn't respond.
Maybe it was the Hokas.
Running along the American River, the bike path is atop a levee and there are ample locations to sleep in the nearby bushes, hotel fencing, and ravines. Friday morning there was a very large number of people still waking up from their trailside camp spot and a few just setting out on the path for their morning stroll to wherever. I passed a few huddles of people with bikes laden down with sleeping bags, puppies on rope leashes, and piles of beer cans. Some of them were talking to themselves and others just stared at me.
Though there were a few other runners and bikers in the area, I was pretty well removed from roads or commercial activity and started to feel a little nervous during the run. I realized that on my coast to coast run I never felt threatened or intimidated and wondered why the feeling was just now starting to set in. Have I lost my immunity to thinking the best of all people or do people on the street give off a different vibe now than they did 14 years ago?
I'd like to think that people haven't changed - either me or them, just my interpretation of the situation. I tried waving a little as I passed each one, a few fingers raised from one hand, just to acknowledge each person as a person. Most didn't respond.
Maybe it was the Hokas.
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