The Inside Rail

After a conference call, I find the Hitchcock Woods and run. Run it out. Run off the frustration. Run off the fear. Run off the stress.

Beautiful spot in the world, an oasis in a storm. Hours after the fox hunt, guess I should have known they hunt Tuesdays, the ground is rough, too rough, like a choppy sea, I wonder if those are Le Chevalier’s prints.

I feel good, though, getting fit, laboring through the first furlongs on Cathedral Aisle, then traversing Peek-A-Boo Lane, to the Horse Show Ring, jump an aiken on the Ridge Mile Track, wishing I was taking a new hold on Douglas Road or letting out a notch on Eagle Poise, then a right, following horse prints that are singular, down the Chalk Cliffs, down Harry’s Hill, jump another aiken on Cathedral Aisle Fences Path, back down Cathedral Aisle, past Black Gum Pond, quick left on an unnamed trail, up again, this time on High Point Lane, then I waver at a crossroads, looking high into the pine trees looking for the wooden signs with the names of the paths, I go straight, realize I'm wrong, turn around and find Whitney Drive and home. I can almost hear Juac Hallow. 

For a moment, I feel good again.