I got to Ashland last night and spent today eating, reading, resting, talking, eating, talking, reading and sleeping before I finally got around to running.  With no one to entertain, fights to mediate, meals to make or bedtimes to adhere to, I’m suddenly in a wonderful, strange, very zen-like existence.  These next few days are about ME, and no one else.  This is new territory I’m visiting.  Don’t worry, I’m a quick learner.  I think I’ll be okay.

Gwen drove me around Downtown Ashland this morning and showed me the Oregon Shakespeare Festival where she and husband Michael work (Gwen is a Stage Manager and Michael is the Master Electrician).  We visited the Ashland Food Co-op and then lollipopped home while she pointed out landmarks.  Michael added to this body of knowledge by telling me how to get up to the hills and down onto the bike path. With a hazy mental picture of the area and enough light to see by, I was good to go.

Gwen left for the evening just as I was waking up from my 2 ½ hr nap (see, I told you I’m a quick learner, I know what to do with free time).  She said she was taking the car because it looked like thunderstorms tonight and she wanted to be able to come home out of the rain at 1 AM when she gets off work.  Fair enough.

I headed out of the subdivision, trying to find the through-road that connects to downtown.  Failing that, I found the elementary school that has a bike path close-by.  Much to my surprise there was a trail map of the area at the mouth of the bike-path.  After studying it for a minute I changed direction and decided to follow the path through town into the hills.  The elevation would go from about 1500 to 2200 feet above sea level, and I’m a sucker for trail running.

When I turned around I noticed that my Garmin wasn’t tracking properly.  I had been running for about 5 minutes but the mile said 2 miles.  Not so, I swear.  There were bars saying I had signal, but things weren’t syncing.  I reset to zero and headed into town.

Here and there I had signal, but it wasn’t consistent so I just watched the timer.  Because I was running in a brand-new location, I knew that my sense of time and distance would be off because I’d be so busy gawking at all the new sights.  Do you do that?  It takes me a few runs on the same trail before I get an accurate sense of what’s really there; the newness has to wear off before I can take off my rose-colored glasses.  Fine, I’ll admit it; I’m really a child in an adult’s body.

I got through Downtown Ashland and had this strange feeling of being in a movie.  Ashland is beautiful, touristy and happy; lots of places for tourists to spend their money while they wait to take in a show at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival (OSF), the biggest Shakespeare Festival in the Western Hemisphere.  There are tons of restaurants, kids playing in the nearby parks, girls walking along the railroad tracks, kids sitting with their parents at outdoor tables eating ice cream. Imagine the camera panning to take in the setting and then switching to this random runner (me).  The runner creates movement in the scene, flitting between people, running next to the lamp-post and crossing the street.  Old people look up from the racks of clothes lining the sidewalks as they browse for deals on t-shirts, knick-knacks and other doo-dads that no one really needs.

I kept following the signs and made it onto the path.  Lithia Park is right outside the brick area and was full of more happy people.  There were couples walking, kids playing catch with their parents in the green, a family looking at the duck pond.  Further up more people were walking the trail with loved one,  and groups of people were picnicking around fire pits and built-in grills.  The trail was wide and so very soft.  Wood chips were spread on the trail and must have been several inches deep to achieve the springiness that made this trail feel better than a rubber track.

About 24 minutes after I reset the Garmin it started to rain.  Small, soft drops fell from the sky and gently spattered my bare arms, face and legs.  The air was warm and the drops of moisture felt like an extension of the air itself rather than a thresh-hold that had just been crossed.  My sunglasses that had been necessary equipment when I began the run were suddenly superfluous; I removed them from my face, folded them into my hand and carried them gently the rest of the run.  I continued to run uphill.

This hill was nothing like the Rocky Mountains, my regular running playground.  This hill was low, gentle, lush and teeming with flora.  A small river runs beside the trail and its music sounded different to my mountain ears.  My senses were startlingly acute and every fiber of my body sang with pleasure.

Finally I reached a place where I could either cross a street and continue on the trail, or turn around.  A group of mountain bikers was riding above me on a trail parallel to my trail and stopped just ahead of me, where the trails merged.  My watch read 28 minutes.  It was time to turn around.

 And so I headed home.  Down the trail I ran, sometimes running on the wide soft trail near the river, other times testing my quick reflexes on the narrow upper trail that ran parallel to the lower.  The picnickers were packing up to go home, their movements hurried as they huddled into their jackets.  A Mom with her baby in a sling stood under an overhang, waiting out the rain.  The three teenagers that had meandered with no destination just minutes before ran for shelter.  The duck pond was empty.  And the three kids that had played catch with their Momma were running in the grass with their shoes off, faces uplifted and mouths open, trying to drink the rain.

“Look, she’s running through the rain!” one of them called to the others as I flew past.  A smile erupted from my face and stayed plastered in place for the duration of the run.  Yes, I was running in the rain.  Only children and myself were out enjoying the feel of water gracing our bodies.

I emerged from Lithia Park into Downtown Ashland again and easily found my way through the streets back to Gwen and Michael’s house.  The texture of the rain never changed, nor did the cadence of the soft patter on trees and concrete.  The front of my shirt and shorts were soaked, along with my socks and shoes.

Now, everything is hanging up to dry.  The rain has continued sporadically this evening, and a great roil of thunder even passed through.   This is a bummer for the show Gwen’s teching tonight in the outdoor theatre at OSF.  She’ll stay dry, but the actors might get damp.