Last Wednesday I started sharing things that I missed from Australia beginning with a decent cappuccino and conversations, the second is a four-mile stretch where most of my marathon training took place. One reason it’s so important to me is the entire run took place on sidewalks or a trail making it a lot safer than my current route that is along a busy road, but the real reason I miss the old training route is memories would flood my mind every time I ran it.
Like the small trail you could find at the one-mile mark that will forever be known as the “Dog Trail” and my dog Yoda’s idea of Heaven on earth.
Yoda’s last walk along the Dog Trail
The Dog Trail’s dead end which marked the halfway point of my run before Marathon training and how much I looked forward to it.
The spot on the trail where a small dog came after me; thankfully he was just interested in a race so my patented “curl up into the fetal position and scream like a little girl” defense mechanism wasn’t needed.
The place where the kids rode their skateboards and one of them called me “sick” because I ran six miles, which is a compliment…I think.
The spot past the dog trail where a Church member would see me on my morning run and honk his horn while driving to work but I wouldn’t respond, too busy listening to Taylor Swift on my headphones
A spot roughly twenty yards farther where a family with kids will yell my name, wave their arms, and jump up and down to get my attention, but no luck
The footy oval where one day I took part in the most embarrassing game of ultimate Frisbee known to man.
Running by the large sign that said you were entering the Highlands housing development and praying about a nearby townhouse I wanted to move into upon returning to Australia.
A large hill that I lovingly refer to as “the slow death”
The shopping center at the top of a large hill where I bought celebratory doughnuts and hard jubes (if you don’t know what those are, just believe me they are awesome)
A downhill portion of my run that I look forward to while climbing the hill but ironically becomes the hardest part on the way back..
The place where I tripped over something and did a face plant on the sidewalk resulting in a bruise on my face making me look like I was in a bar fight…also the place where I neglected the pain in my body and immediately checked to make sure my phone was okay
The greatest fish and chip shop in the entire world…seriously
A local library, which makes the best cappuccino in all of Melbourne
The spot where a teenage girl started screaming “run” at the top of her lungs as I went by and scared me half to death
Pass the woman who rides her bike while a dog (with no leash) runs obediently beside her, something my dog will never do
This isn’t to say there are memories with my current running spot (like the day a deer jumped in front of me) but when a person runs the same route five days a week for four months you sort of get used to it. In a sense it isn’t the running that I miss (definitely not the pain involved in it) but the memories that they hold; and it’s those memories that call me to back to my true home.