It's the last night of August, and there are frost advisories out for the area. Considering this garden's history of being stricken by frost even when no advisories are present, I thought it would be prudent to cover up the tender stuff. I put so much work into growing tomatoes, I would like to see more than one ripe one yet this year. And my one watermelon is now softball size, can't give up now!
I had a strange but delightful run this morning. Usually in five miles or more, I will only see one or two vehicles at the most. And usually at least one of those is someone I know. But this morning when I turned east on the dead end road I know so well, I was passed by pickup truck after pickup truck, all late model and shiny, all towing trailers with dirt bikes or 4 wheelers. Great. Where on this little dead end road could they possibly be headed? I thought about turning around and taking a different route, but hey, this is MY road, my run, and I'm not going to let a bunch of city kids with their toys chase me off of it.
It turned out they were all headed to one property about two miles down the road. I don't know the details, but there were dozens of vehicles parked there, dirt bikes revving up, the smell of exhaust and cigarettes. I ran past the property, to the end of the road, when I realized something: I felt strong. Maybe it was my disgust at seeing all these gasoline powered playthings in my territory, or maybe it was the silent prayer I said at the beginning of my run, asking for strength. Whatever it was, I felt like I could go on and on. I ended up running down a little side dead end road a half mile and back, and going strong the rest of the way home for a total of seven miles.
I can't recall ever running seven miles, not even in my more youthful days. And I felt like I could have gone for at least ten.