map, each pointing in different directions. i pause. where? here. where to? there. down there, right at the first fork, left at the … at least they had a map. gravel crunching now, the narrow gravel road has no quiet spots, but it is free of roots and i want to open the stride again, just to check–just to push a bit. it’s effort, not pace, that we want to be comfortable with when on trails. birds and berries, waves and wind have been acknowledged, now i want to put my mind to running. it is a mile to the car. old friends and strangers are left behind again as 