Dispatch from the pumpkin patch

This past weekend, Zdenek and I escaped the hustle and bustle of Manhattan with our good friends, Dave and Erica (who are expecting their +1 eight weeks before ours, so I’m counting on them to teach me everything I’ll need to know). We headed north for a luxury log cabin in the Hudson Valley -- a site we last visited in the snowier, colder days of February. After a week of rainy weather that seemed to cover the entire East Coast, we were treated to cloudless blue skies, warm sunshine, and gorgeous fall foliage. We managed to pick apples, hike around the State Park, prepare a three course meal that incorporated our picked apples into every course, and pay a visit to the Storm King Art Center (a place quite unlike any other I’ve seen).

On both Saturday and Sunday, Zdenek and I got up a little earlier than Dave and Erica. We shared a Clif bar, drank our requisite cups of coffee, and changed into our running shoes. Soon we were running through (very) hilly back roads and down gravel lanes, past corn fields and streams, overlooking valleys of orange, yellow, red, and green. Though the sun shone clearly, the air was definitely of the crisp, autumn variety, and I probably could have used a slightly warmer shirt. These were difficult runs, to say the least, and there were a couple of long, steep inclines on each route that slowed me to a walk. But the breathtaking views and peaceful surroundings made every ounce of hard effort worth it. Zdenek excitedly remarked no fewer than five times on each run how happy he was to be there.

After Sunday morning’s run, Zdenek and I sat on the patio rocking chairs for a while, looking out onto the forest with steaming mugs of coffee warming our hands. Tired and content, I don’t think we would have savored that moment nearly as much had we not just run -- side by side -- through the autumn leaves. At a time when everything around us seems to be changing so quickly, running has a funny way of making time stand still.