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It's easy to leave the horrible traffic of Boston behind on my favorite ten-plus mile Sunday run. After 8-10 minutes of easy running, I enter the Arboretum though the big iron gate on Fairview Street, and continue to climb the tallest hill in Boston. Some days I take a right and run all the way to the top and reward myself with a Rocky-esque view of the skyline; other days I'm all business and continue on down to Bussey Street. Crossing Bussey Street, I enter the main section of the Arboretum, staying on the main path for 1/4 mile before turning right and getting off road. This is the "backside" that not many people see; a spectacular cedar and hemlock grove, carpeted with soft needles, with the tall boughs making a cathedral like ceiling. There's a steady climb to a long granite ridge, which eventually drops to a stream that can be a difficult crossing at high water. Passing by the South Street gate, I pick up the path again and climb steeply to the top of forsythia hill, then drop to the frog ponds and the Forest Hill Entrance. Turning left just before the gate, a path parallels the Arborway and approaches the main gate, which I head out of and towards Jamaica Pond.
The pond is always a great place to people and bird watch. Cormorants spread their wings to dry in the sun, geese squawk and small children feed the ducks. I once spotted a pair of Hooded Mergansers and occasionally see a Horned Grebe diving for food; Mallards and Black Ducks are most common. Whether I bear right or left around the pond depends on whether I want to run up or down the steep path in Olmstead Park behind the skating rink; on this particular day I'm up for the uphill challenge, so I bear left, and continue towards Cypress Street and Riverdale Parkway. There, at the far end of Leverett Pond, I reach the lowest point of the route, which is celebrated only by myself and a solitary fisherman.
Turning right around the pond and heading back through Olmstead Park, I cross the softball field which is home to two separate flag football games today, cross Willow Pond Road and the stream that flows behind the rink. This is an interesting path through tall cat-o-nine-tails and up the steep hill (why did I decide to run up it, anyway?) Cresting the top of it, lungs and legs burning, I've still got four miles to go with three steep hills between here and home. I think of my wife sitting there with the baby, cup of coffee steaming next to her, Sunday paper strewn about, and my stride quickens slightly in anticipation of a friendly greeting and softly delicious baby hugs. Somehow, the hills and miles always go by much quicker on the way home.
Continued, Part III
Submitted by Scott Duhaime
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