Jogging Childhood Memories

I’m up early and feelin’ good. So good that I’ve decided to go for a two-mile run. What inspires this plodding hiker to speed up his pace today? There’s just something magic about the trails in the woods of Highland Hills Park.

My wife and I discovered these trails a couple weeks ago, hiding right under our noses at the end of our street. We’ve already walked the trails four or five times since. On a solo trek last week, I surprised myself—and my doctors—when I broke into a jog. It’s not that I am unfit, I just don’t jog. It looks painful. Besides, since I’ve retired I’ve not been in that much of a hurry. But that day I didn’t stop for about a mile and a quarter.

Over the last decade, I’ve made a few weak attempts at jogging. It’s tedious and I burn out quickly. I’m good for about a half-mile slow jog on the treadmill or on the track at Tower Park. But on this trail I’m a kid again, running for the fun of it! Somehow enjoyment makes my legs stronger and my lungs hold twice as much oxygen.

My earliest runs were in the woods of northern Ohio with my dad. The family lumber business required him to traipse around in large stands of forest. I had to scurry to keep up, his stride double mine. But at the end of the day, I had as much left as he did.

During my school days, I ran the woods around my second hometown of Tippecanoe. Sometimes my friends and I would jog for miles at a time. We might be pretending we were chasing bad guys, or being chased ourselves. Maybe even by King Kong. Or, more often than not, we ran just for the sheer joy of it.

I ran a little track in high school and college, and that completed any strong need or desire to run. Until now. Today I’m starting at the bridge at the end of Ohio Avenue. Fitting, because Ohio is where I did most of my jogging growing up.

The trail seems to do some jogging of its own, stirring up memories of good times past. I encounter little green men. Yes, there are little green men on this trail. Only now I don’t have to make them up. They freaked me out when I first saw them, but I soon realized they had come in peace.

Ahead is another bridge. Back in our day we didn’t have ones this fancy. We used trees that had fallen across the creek and gullies. So what if we fell in occasionally? They did the job.

Other memories surface, like my youthful amazement at Tolkien’s Hobbit. I’m running in the woods with Gandalf, Bilbo, and the dwarfs, on our way to the Lonely Mountain to take on the dragon.

OK, I know this is silly. I need to concentrate. I have well over a mile to go to reach my goal. Some of the animals seem to cheer me on as I ascend a big hill. One deer, though, only stares. That’s just rude. The squirrel can’t bear to watch. Or maybe it’s just focusing on the other nut. I breathe a little harder and jog more slowly, but I’m getting there.

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Earlier I talked with Jeff Mohr of Duke Energy, the trail steward. He said the cross country teams do some running here. I understand why. The easy-to-difficult trails provide a good workout. I’m just glad I don’t have to keep up with them.

I have some level ground on which to recover. I’m hanging in there as I leave the main loop to do a side trail. I climb two steep hills which lead to a field where the tennis courts used to be and then turn back.

I’m smiling now as I jog downhill, the direction all jogging should be. I’m well into the second mile. I pass the aliens who have waited like statues, strain up a hill, and power on to the finish line.

Thanks to Jeff for taking over this trail and making major improvements. And to Chris Rust for his talent and sense of wonder with his carvings. And to the city of Fort Thomas and all the volunteers it takes to build and maintain the trail. I know something about that as a volunteer on the Buckeye Trail in Ohio.

I’m sure this trail means different things to different people. It’s a place for dogs to walk their people. For a young mom to take her young kids to sit on a bridge and do a woodsy art project. Or a dad to do some screen-free time with his teen. To me, it’s a direct loop back to childhood, and all the wonder that goes with it.