In 1970, When I was 20 years old, I would sometimes run up Case Mountain in Manchester, CT. Case Mountain isn’t really a mountain, but running up it, a distance of about three-quarters of a mile, was an excellent workout. I ran there mostly in the fall, probably because, in my mind, that was still as cross-country season. It was uphill from the moment I left the “stairway to nowhere” at the start of the trail. By the time I got to a section shaded by pine trees I’d be winded, but in another 50 yards or so, I’d be at the summit. That’s where the canopy of oak and pine trees that had shaded me from the still warm noonday sun gave way to sunlight and blue September sky. It wasn’t the top of the world, but I was young and strong and the view from this part of my world was beautiful.
Sometimes, if the air was especially clear and bright that day, I’d slow down a little to take in the view of Hartford and the Connecticut River valley. But most of the time, I’d maintain or pick up my pace as the road curved to the left. Now it would be mostly downhill for close to two miles. I don’t think there have ever been times in my life when I felt better physically than I did when I ran up and down Case Mountain. I had always been a middle of the pack runner on my high school cross-country team. Guys on the team like Dave Stoneman and Rob McKinney would have been far out in front if they had joined me on one of those runs. But my high school days were over, and I always ran alone, not competing with anyone, not timing myself (although now I kind of wish I had). I ran just for the sheer joy of running and nothing else. I would usually get my second wind back after running uphill so for the entire way down my breathing would be relaxed and comfortable. When the pond would come in sight, I’d be close to where I had started. There was a little slope to go up, but then the “stairway to nowhere” would come in sight and another run was complete. I’d breathe the crisp, pine-scented autumn air in deeply for a minute or so and enjoy the satisfaction of a runner’s high.
After having bilateral hip surgery in 2019, I haven’t been able to run very much. I power-walk now through Wilcox Park and Watch Hill in Westerly. But I don’t get a second wind nor that endorphin-fueled rush from walking I used to get when running and I miss that. At the same time, I’m grateful for being able to walk as much as I do since before my surgery it was difficult to walk across the living room. I think I’m actually more thankful that I can walk again than I ever was when I could run around Case Mountain and other places over the years. The ability to run whenever I wanted to was something I took for granted when I was younger. Perhaps we’re most grateful for what we have in life when we come to realize we can’t take it for granted.
David James Madden