The first trails I followed were cow paths. They were pretty safe routes for a little tyke because they all led back to the barn and farmyard. Safe at home.
I’d run along the narrow paths with a dog following, making up names for the paths that the cows slowly plodded along single file in their daily routine. The names originated from my latest childhood fascination, perhaps a television show or a day trip with my parents.
I would continue to follow trails, being engaged while on them and enthused by what they offered as my outdoor explorations expanded. So, too, did my days of more hunting freedom, as in hunting solo. Cow paths turned to deer trails, and I’d follow logging roads, past and present.
Later I found myself winding through the woodlands on cross-country ski trails. On ambitious days I’d ski on groomed trails—sometimes snowmobile trails—for 20 miles or more. I’d also blaze my own snowshoe trails where nobody else ventured. Still do.
At a settling point in my life, new trails of a whole different plan and purpose came along. They were in the back yard, for my wife and I had taken on two four-legged boys who needed a route to stretch their legs and exhaust their energy in the winter. The dogs’ play trail was in the shape of a triangle, starting and ending at the foot of the deck (again, safe at home). After every snowfall I’d shovel the 300 linear feet of dog trails and then smile at wagging dog tails.
I’d toss their ball and it would roll quickly down the slight and slick incline, sending the dogs hurdling into deep snow if they caught up to it too late. They didn’t care. With gusto and white noses they’d retrieve the ball from the powder and get back on track, one chasing the other to the triangle’s next point. One of the dogs played his own game of ball, setting it at the top of the incline and nose-nudging it until it picked up steam.
Those trails are no longer, as the boys are gone now. So my energy goes back into the trails of exploration and recreation while running, hiking, snowshoeing and skiing. I miss the trails of the past, but am grateful for the memories and the hours of learning and laughing along those paths. I am still learning and laughing on the trails of the present, all the while wondering but not worrying about the trails of the future. I look forward to them, wherever they take me, whatever they teach me, whenever they call me.
Somehow, life’s trails always lead back home. Safe, and warm, at home.