Moving to our new home, one we can now proudly call our own by the way, had me immediately experimenting with three new route options. One took me through the main road to the center of town and back, a second had me crossing the boundary to the next town, and a third one took me around three adjoining subdivisions.
I recently discovered a fourth one while on a short exploratory ride on my mountain bike.
Dirt roads abound in these parts, lined by rubber and fruit trees, and filled with the harmony of birdcalls mingling with insect sounds. Once in a while, one hears the sound of a distant mountain stream babbling as it makes its way through rocks and boulders smoothened by the rushing waters of yearly torrential floods.
The road isn't smooth as an asphalt highway is. Neither is the surface even as on a concrete highway. The sometimes sharp and sometimes smooth rocks that jut out of the packed dirt make for dangerously uneven footing. And there is the occasional mud pool which either makes you hop, skip and jump, go slow, or just walk altogether.
But that is what brings thrill to the one who runs this route. That is what gives him the feeling of oneness with nature, and that he was born to run.