AN UNEXPECTED ENCOUNTER

OCTOBER 5, 2022 – As followers of this blog know, I was once a compulsive runner. Or more precisely, I was a compulsive “run away,” who, to escape self-doubt, lived to eat, read (about training), and run.

Every day of law school, I ran a loop along both sides of the Mississippi River from the University of Minnesota to Minnehaha Park, about six miles downstream. The most beautiful portion of the route was on the Minneapolis (west) side between the Lake Street Bridge and Minnehaha. For decades this section of parkway has been part of the Twin Cities Marathon—billed (and trademarked!) as the “Most Beautiful Urban Marathon in America.” Especially in October it was a gorgeous place to run, and the combination of visual delights (however blurred), fall weather, and endorphins allowed me to outrun the wind—or so it seemed.

I ran with such obsessive intensity, however, that I’d never slow my pace. Consequently, fall hues spun into a giant color-wheel. Of details, I took little notice.

This morning I returned to that same section of between Lake Street and Minnehaha Falls—to walk, not run. With my iPhone camera, I framed a few dozen photos from a continuous scene. Though I walked one hour at a fast clip, I spent another hour strolling, stopping, and admiring the natural beauty surrounding me.

Bikers and walkers trafficked along the dedicated, paved trails that parallel West River Road, which showcases tony homes set back on one side of the route and the magnificent, unending (it’s part of a 25-mile circle) park on the river side of the roadway. But when I ducked down to the old “Winchell Trail” (an Indian trail well-established long before the first white (French) explorers arrived here), I encountered almost no one.

This ancient trail and its offshoots intersect regularly with stone staircases and winding paths that lead from the parkway atop the wooded, limestone bluff down to the river level. Only after the intrepid hiker reaches the bottom and meanders through heavy foliage on the flats does the shining Mississippi come into view.

And what a view it was today! Sunbeams danced along the Mississippi and lit up the surrounding green, red, yellow, and orange foliage. Colors were at their peak, and everywhere I was rewarded with riverscapes worth a 1,000 canvases and a million words. From grand scenes to the intricacies of backlit leaves and spot-lit wildflower blossoms, I found uncountable reasons to stop, look, and admire.

During my stop-and-stroll, I saw myself whip past. Without an ounce of regret or nostalgia, I smiled at that young self. I then imagined the unimaginable: young self stopping to greet current self. Young self, I mused, would surely ask a gazillion questions, starting with, “Will I . . . er, did you . . . drop out of law school?” But how would current self respond? I wondered. With “You’ll find out soon enough,” perhaps? Better yet, I thought, I’d add, “What I will say, however, is that in this place and moment, we—you and I—are surrounded by nature’s finery, set aglow by Apollo’s command. Your race can wait. Walk a few strides now, and rejoice in this beauty! And when it comes to finishing law school (Ha!) and all that awaits you, don’t let anxiety about tomorrow rob you of today*.”

With that imagined exchange, I continued strolling and smiling as young self shook his head in disbelief or disappointment—I couldn’t be sure—then kicked up his heels and fast disappeared around the bend.

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*An axiom shared recently by a close friend—and law school classmate of mine.

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© 2022 by Eric Nilsson