Old Friends

The deer perked his head up toward me as I entered the park. I knew that jumping the construction fence was worth it as soon as our eyes locked. "Long time no see," seemed to be what the deer wished to convey to me. After all, it had been quite awhile since my feet tread upon Marshbank, the place where I first fell in love with running. Just like getting on a bike though, the movements came back to me quickly.
With the construction going on throughout the park my friend seemed to realize that we were on the same side. He was as unwelcome in his home, Marshbank, as I was and together we would be the incognito freedom fighters of the park.
Here it comes again, I thought to myself, that irrepressible running urge. The bushes became the stands and the trees in them my spectators, all itching to see what the young man and his quadrapedal companion could do as they wrought havoc with the fury of their feet. This is why I had come back here. The hills maintain their magic even though we might lose ours. The flies nipping at my head seemed only to spur me on faster toward that elusive goal. I'm home boys, if only for one more night.
My last run stateside. Wow! Enough said. I had chosen the run in late afternoon purposefully so as to catch the last bit of daylight and watch the world slip into dusk. As I came up the hill to exit Marshbank I imagined my fellow deer-ninja running in the woods alongside me. Godspeed friend, mayhaps our paths with cross again, mayhaps not, either way I'll not soon forget you.
After delaying the inevitable as long as I could I finally found myself back in front of my house. Mmm, burgers, beans, and America, that is what was on the menu, and the pungent smells of the afforementioned delicacies greeted my sore muscles as I trotted in. The shadows cast by the setting sun played pleasant tricks with my eyes and I was happy to be home, at least for one more night.
All in all, the last run, like most runs, was more than a run. Rather, it was a dip into my idyllic, prelapsarian childhood, when the world was pure and whole, small rather than large, and welcoming rather than intimidating. As my feet may move me farther from my home, I'm sure my cup will continue to overflow, if from nothing else than from this, my last run in Michigan.