Free Friday

I woke up Friday morning knowing I had a day to hit the road and build some fitness. That's my kind of attitude, oportunity. I already had a plan. The plan was to drive to Carrollton, park at Dollar General, and make another run from there. This time, however, I would go inland, go into the heart of the big triangle, the huge expanse of wild country between Highways 17 on the west, 35 on the east, and 430 on the south. I was running by 9:02 a.m.

In less than a mile, I had turned off Highway 17 and into the triangle, onto County Road 211. Having studied Google Maps, I had an idea about some of the roads in this area. My plan was to just run south on 211 and get a view of the roads that peel off of it.

What kind of image is this?

One of the first things that stood out to me was the tree above. To me, it is a stunning image of death. Standing there all alone, with an old lightening scar and no leaves, it looks aged and dead. Certainly it is aged. Dead? I think not.

I shuffled on until the road turned gravel. Then I began to feel that spirit of adventure. The road constantly twisted, turned, rose, fell. What is around the next bend?

County Road 211 after the rain stopped.

For the first couple of hours it rained lightly on me. The weather was warm enough that getting wet was not a concern. In fact, the drizzle gave me just a touch of cooling and made for near perfect running conditions.

I crossed several creeks and took a picture of each one. You know what crossing a creek means, don't you? It means you go down hill for a long way and then you go uphill for a long way. Good training if you can take it.

One of several I crossed, Pelucia I think.

About seven miles in, I entered a new section. I started coming upon old homesteads, and I mean old. Most of these looked like they were built in the late 1800s or the early 20th century. When people back then build homes in rural Carroll County, they were not constructing weekend houses or hunting camps. They were trying to eke out a living. How did these people get their start? Even though land was cheep back then, it wasn't free. What bank would loan money to a man who owned nothing but two hands and an axe several thousand dollars to buy land he had to clear by hand and farm with mules?

One of several old, abandoned houses
 I photographed.

Around eight miles, I came upon some horses and an interesting-looking barn. I took a couple of photos and then noticed an elderly black man observing me from his yard across the road. He was the first person I had seen in an hour or more.

I love that barn. And the horses must have never seen
someone coming down the road on foot.

I walked over into his yard and attempted to talk to him. He was very interested in where I was from, and he seemed suspicious of me. I guess they don't get many visitors out here, and the fact that I took a photo of his horses apparently made him wary. I asked him how far it was to Highway 430. When he told me it was about five miles, I knew that was too far for me to get there and back. So I left and when on about another mile and turned around at 9.17 miles and headed back the way I had come.

How many kids grew up in that house? Where are they now?
Are their memories good or bad?

On the way back, I began to notice coyote doo doo all over the road. I also took pictures of the road signs so when I got home, I could check out Google Maps and know more about where I wanted to run next time. Around mile 17 things began to get tough for me. They always do. To make a short story long, I limped in for 18.51 miles. Slow. They were slow miles, but I did them, I had fun, and I am going back for more. What did I learn? I learned there is a whole lot of land and some interesting views in the triangle. I want to see them all.