The second to last 20

This morning, about 18 miles into my run, I realized that today's 20-miler is the second to last time I will run 20 miles or more in 2012. (The last one, of course, I'm planning for my marathon in three weeks and one day.) I found it amusing that I was feeling a tad sentimental about this, considering the amount of time I had spent dawdling early in the morning before getting out the door.

Before I left, I'd told Josh my planned route, and his (sleepy) response was, "Oh, you'll like the scenery on that one!" He knows me well, Reader. I had rigged up a route that made use of one tried and true winner (the river road) as well as one of my new route discoveries from a couple of weeks ago: over to Fort Snelling, with a loop around Pike Island inside the state park.

When the fall colors are this good, I can't help but tuck my camera into my fuel belt. Here's the Mississippi River, with the Minneapolis skyline in the top right corner:

The run was broken up nicely into four or five distinct sections, which I like to do for all of my long runs if I can help it. I've only run at Pike Island once before, for a race. It's truly a wonderful trail, tucked no more than 15 minutes away from the airport, the Mall of America, and probably downtown St. Paul and downtown Minneapolis, too. The trail (between three and four miles, I think) is a dirt path that winds around the outside perimeter of the island, so it would be very hard to get lost. (Another definite bonus in my book.) It also struck a good balance between being quiet and peaceful but seeing enough people out there to feel safe. I would love to bring Wish out there for a walk.

I was kind of captivated by this tree. Both of 'em:

That's not the river, though - it was part of a little pond in the middle of the island:

This is a view of the river:

For parts of the run, I could see across the river, and I was actually looking straight toward the Big Rivers Regional Trail I discovered recently on the other side of the river - but of course, it felt like a completely different place.

Other parts of the trail wound through the woods, and I really liked the sun on the bright green leaves on the river banks, shining through the darker tree silhouettes:

I am so happy that I explored this trail in the fall first. It was gorgeous.

Another highlight happened near the end of my run, when I was out of the wilderness and working my way through the neighborhoods toward home and the can of root beer I was dreaming about procuring. (This is two 20-milers in a row, by the way, that I have finished with a hankering for root beer. I also felt this after the Chicago Marathon last year. I need to remember to pack a little can of root beer in my bag for my marathon this fall.)

Anyway, this guy was running toward me with his hand up in a wave, but for a prolonged moment. A couple of days ago, I saw two guys who were running on Summit Avenue high-five each other, and I spent a few minutes imagining whether they were friends or total strangers. So that's where my mind went: Is this dude going for a high-five? The trouble is, everything takes a little longer to process after 17 miles or so, and I put all the pieces together a little too late. I raised my hand in a wave (I usually nod or say hello, but a wave isn't totally weird) but stopped short of the high-five, missing it by several totally awkward inches. The guy groaned good-naturedly and I burst out laughing because I knew I had in fact just botched a high-five with a stranger.

Is the high-five between runners a thing now? I obviously need some practice, but I kind of love it!

My last 20-miler of the training cycle is in the books! Let the taper begin!