Lonely but Satisfied

On the eastern edge of Santa Rosa, there is a state park called Annadel. The diverse park is spread across over 5,000 acres in the Valley of the Moon. Elevation ranges from 321 feet to 1887 feet. There is over 40 miles of trails in the park. One of the 24 trails, Spring Creek Trail, winds parallel to a flexuous creek. To the left of the trail, a steep hill descends towards the trail. To the right of the trail, the hill briefly continues its steep descent, is interrupted by the presence of the creek and then ascends towards the sky. Not only are there hills on both sides of the trail, but the trail itself climb over rolling hills and up about 300 feet in elevation. At the end of Spring Creek Trail, the ground plateaus and there is a beautiful sight to behold-Lake Ilsanjo. An innumerable amount of stones are imbedded in the trail. Navigating through the labyrinth of rocks is difficult; if one is not careful, one might twist their ankle.

Annadel is immensely different during the different seasons. During the winter, the temperature highs are in the 50s and 60s, and the temperature lows are in the mid 20s. The area gets about 30 inches of rain each year, usually from November to April. When it rains, over 5,000 acres of dirt is transformed into mud; when it rains, huge, murky, unavoidable puddles form on the paths; when it rains, sections of trail become streams as water rushes to join the creek. Dreary grey clouds obstruct the sun’s bright light. Not many people venture into Annadel on gloomy, rainy days like this, but there are a few exceptions. Mountain bikers love to go out on rides through the mud; they whiz down hills as fast as they can go on their fancy bikes; they come out of the park looking more like swamp monsters from Scooby Doo than human beings.

The bikers are not completely on alone though; a runner or two will spend some time in Annadel on a cold day like this. These runners are different than the joggers one might see shuffling along the roads with iPod in ears. These runners are different; they do not block out the world with loud tunes, but connect with nature and ultimately with themselves. One defining feature of an Annadel runner is their massive calves; their immense

leg muscles are a result of hard work and running up a lot of steep hills. Most people would wonder why those insane fools would want to leave their warm homes to go run long distances through mud, cold, wind and possibly rain. Running is an absurd activity. Yet those runners still run, and many of them run in Annadel every weekend. I can try to explain the reason behind running, but there is no way to say it. Sure, I can list all of the benefits of running, but I cannot explain running. I can try to tell someone why I run in Annadel every Saturday, no matter what the weather is like; but there is no way they can understand. My visits to Annadel can be simply summarized. I come. I run. I leave. Yet, they are so much more than that; they mean so much more than that; my runs are so much more than just runs; Annadel is so much more than just a park.

I feel free and fast and strong and beautiful and happy and tired and healthy and determined and energized and carefree and powerful and weak and serene and alive as I bound into Annadel. I arrive at Spring Creek Trail and dash under the canopy of trees. The trees’ skinny trunks are covered with vibrant green moss; there are no branches until the top of the trees, and then there is a burst of branches and leaves that provides shade on hot days. But today is no hot day, and the trees form a dimly lit tunnel over the muddy path. As I trot along the path, I swerve to avoid rocks and puddles. I glance at the ground and see green: verduous ferns and miniscule, delicate plants sprouting up from under the layer of brown branches, brown twigs, brown leaves and brown pine needles. The only sound I hear is the water of the swift creek rushing, rushing, rushing to nowhere just as I do.

Running is extremely pleasant; running is extremely lonely. I find joy in running, yet I cannot avoid feeling lonely when I run nine miles, when there is no one else on the trail, when I realize I spend more time running than I spend with my friends. As I inhale a breath of crisp, moist air, loneliness takes hold of me and begins to crush my heart. Then, I come to a break in the trees and there is a miraculously synchronized break in the clouds. As bright sunshine suddenly lights the path, I notice an orange butterfly the size of a fingernail as it flits by. I am satisfied: I find running delightful and I have hope that I am not alone.

-Chloe