the pines
ever since cross country ended, and track ended, and school ended, I'd obviously understood that my time as a runner under coach hill was over. Having been such a big part of my time in high school, I was expecting to be overwhelmed with the realization that it was over. I didn't feel it at the end of the XC season, I didn't feel it at the end of track, and I didn't feel it when Coach assembled the team at graduation for his final words. However, just about any quiet night when I drive through the Pines, and look down the roads surrounding the school, and Showalter, I can feel the longing and the emotion that I failed to notice at my other senior year milestones. Last night when I was coming home from greg's, I just wanted to park the car and sit there on Whitehall. It evokes memories of base runs, time trials, fartleks, warm ups, easy runs, slacking off, all of which add up to thousands of miles spent in that neighborhood. When I am in that neighborhood, it feels like home. It feels safe and familiar. None of the memories are very distinct, but the way that they all blur together just makes the impression left on me even greater.