This is the road I run for hill drills. It stretches along what’s called the Dinosaur Ridge and it’s a great backup when the trails get too wet.

Looking out to the rolling hills as I walked, I thought about how often I’d come here to run when I didn’t have enough time to get farther out to the mountains.

I thought about the times I’d come to these trails when I was grieving and told myself at the time that all I had to do was get to the parking lot. Kriste, I’d say, you don’t even have to get out of the car. Just get out of the house and go to the parking lot.

Without fail, I’d pull into the lot, feeling full (or empty) with sadness, and eventually get out of the car. I’d put one foot in front of the other, shedding layers of pain most days – and sometimes not – and it was always worth it.

Jillions of years ago – yes, jillions – dinosaurs roamed this place. When you’re walking, and noticing, you can see their footprints in the rock alongside impressions left long ago by the ripples of the sea lapping against the sand.

Looking around at the trails Today brought up so many memories made across the hundreds of miles I’ve run and hiked and walked out here. That, coupled with the stories of everyone else who’s ever come this way since the dinosaurs – I’m not even sure how I feel about that – but one thing I definitely don’t feel – when I look at it that way – is alone.