Hittin the Dirt

I’ve really enjoyed the last few months here in NoVa, but I don’t think I really appreciated all we have until I got out of school for the summer break. Now suddenly I’m completely free to explore museums, parks, markets, and restaurants. After a few days of sheer recuperation from a long year in a new school (catching up on sleep, mostly), I was ready to hit the ground running.

And that’s just what I did. Burke Lake Regional Park is a beautiful tract of land managed by Northern Virginia Parks Authority. With disc golf, an ice cream parlor, volleyball courts, and boat rentals, it’s an ideal place for a family reunion or picnic gathering. I went solo with a different focus—to run the 4.5 mile lake trail. It’s a terrific path, well-maintained and a mixture of asphalt and sand segments. At dusk it’s pretty typical to see helmeted families on bikes, shirtless runners racing through the forest, and chatty couples with smiling dogs in tow. Unfortunately, the trail can get a bit congested on weekends and during the week when the 9 to 5 group comes out to play. I moved out of a mountain biker’s way, hit my right foot on a big tree root, flew through the air and slammed into the dirt.

The first word out of my mouth was not “Shit,” or “Ow!” Instead, as blood dripped from my left knee and right hand, I looked up at the cyclist and moaned “Sorry!” Completely stupid. And the biker looked over her shoulder as she continued to ride away and shouted back, “are you okay?” I feebly waved her off (cue the blood spurts!) and started planning the task of getting back to my feet.

I rolled myself over to my right, unhurt side and stood. With a bloody watch and a dusty iPod I trudged over to the lakeshore and rinsed off my elbow, knee, and hand. I don’t know if the water really cleaned me off that much, but it definitely helped ease the burn of my scrapes. I was then able to walk the remaining mile and a half back to my car.

As a kid I was perpetually scabby-kneed. Falls off of my bike, roller-skating injuries, and hiking mishaps kept me outfitted in bandages throughout my childhood. But it’s weird to be thirty-three, when I’m used to wearing skirts and dresses, and have to rethink my wardrobe so I don’t scare little children on the Metro.