The Things We Hold Dear

There's a path that makes a big, sweeping turn south-west from my apartment, along Walnut Boulevard in Corvallis. It's pleasantly wide and made of asphalt: perfect for running. I'm thankful to live next to this path, thankful to be able to listen to music and run and watch the hills.

The trail skirts the edge of the Coast Range--I pass open fields, deciduous trees, and Oregon State animal research barns. In the distance, Bald Hill and then Mary's Peak emerge over the treeline, imposing shapes that lift beyond the splotches of yellow and orange and red. Hawks alight on fenceposts; deer vanish in the crepuscular shadows as I trot past. The light shifts and bends along with the clouds on these perfect evenings. "This is all so bucolic," I say to myself. "Bucolic."

Out on that trail, it doesn't matter that I have to finish quarter grades next week. I don't care about the stacks of boxes we still haven't unpacked from our move, last month. I forget, completely, the nagging utility bills and student loans. Best of all, I don't care that the Great Devil (the U of O football team) is ranked # 1 in the nation. On a good, long run, I forget the bad things of this world.

And so I press on. I only get a few miles in right now--still getting my legs back after two months away from running--but I am about to add to my normal route. At the stoplight where I turn around to head back home, the corner of Harrison and Walnut, the trail branches in three directions. In a few weeks, I'll have tried each path. One leads to Bald Hill. One heads to campus. One goes into downtown Corvallis. Right now, my life is filled with as much opportunity and direction as my favorite running trail. Living in Corvallis is opportunistic like that: there's easy access to surfing, mountain biking, indoor climbing, and OSU athletics. In this town, careful seekers can find literature, spirits, friends, religion, community, transcendence, and renewal. All we need to do is lace up our shoes, crank up our iPods to a good track, and head out the door.