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!

Backlit

The highlight of yesterday afternoon's run was seeing the leaves lit up from the sun setting behind them.

I think that's backlighting, isn't it?  Someone who knows more about photography: please correct me. Anyway, these are some of the many views on the River Road overlooking the mighty Mississippi River. Someone was having a leisurely run yesterday. (Run...run...LEAVES!...run...LEAVES!...LEAVES!...run.)

It was simply amazing out there.

This Side of Paradise: A Summit Hill tour

Another neighborhood tour! Can you believe it?!

Recently I read in the newspaper that the Minnesota Historical Society was hosting tours of the Summit Hill neighborhood where F. Scott Fitzgerald grew up in honor of the writer's Sept. 24 birthday. This is the same organization that coordinated the walking tour Nat and I attended back in July, which we both thoroughly enjoyed. I clipped the event listing enthusiastically, posted it on my fridge, begged Natty to come back to Minnesota for the tour (my plea didn't work) and called that week to reserve my place!

(Can you tell, Reader, that there's absolutely no neutrality here? In the last year or so, I've figured out that I simply adore tours - and really, it's no surprise, because the idea fits so nicely with what Miles and Laurel is all about. I love walking around a neighborhood with an expert who tell me all kinds of things about the layers of history behind each place. Some bloggers want to get sponsored by companies that sell running gear or beauty projects or food or whatever. Can I figure out a way to get sponsored by historical societies and then just go on every tour in Minnesota?)

The tour started at the Commodore, a building near the intersection of Western and Summit. There were four tour times available for the weekend, and about 20-25 people had signed up for the early afternoon time slot. We split into two groups and got started.

Scott and his wife, Zelda, lived in the Commodore after being evicted from their White Bear Lake residences because of their raucous parties. Our guide said that his income spiked to coincide with the Jazz Age - a term that Wikipedia says Scott actually coined himself - and Scott and Zelda really lived it up during that era, including a great year in New York. (If the tour had been longer, I would've loved some more elaboration on that year!)

What I didn't realize before the tour was how many places in St. Paul connect to Fitzgerald, his family and his friends. Why is that, you ask? Well, Scott's maternal grandmother invested in real estate and had property around the area, his parents moved frequently, and he also simply just had a fab social life. He was born in St. Paul and left several times for reasons like boarding school, but St. Paul was a nostalgic place for him: after all, he brought Zelda back to St. Paul so their baby could be born here.

The tour was full of stories about how he spent his years in St. Paul, from attending dancing school before he was a teenager in the space on Grand Avenue now occupied by Ramaley Liquors to hanging out with friends on a porch that I run by often.

Here's our guide elaborating on those topics in front of one of his old girlfriend's houses:

Even though the tour covered some of the same ground from the neighborhood walking tour I took with Natty, I was surprised how little content was duplicated. I don't think the other one, for example, mentioned author Sinclair Lewis's former house!

My favorite stop was a building a few steps away from Summit and Dale. He had been away - in New York, I think - and moved back to Minnesota to live with his parents after a bad period of rejection, both personally and professionally. He told everyone he was ready to write a novel, and it sounds like his friends and family essentially smiled and nodded gently in response. He buckled down and wrote all summer in the third floor of their home, posting chapters on the walls, and soon got a letter that This Side of Paradise had been accepted for publication. Take that!

We also walked past some of the schools in the neighborhood, including the early campus of St. Paul Academy - again, close to Summit and Dale. (Excuse the power lines in the photo. Oops.)

I loved this part of the tour, too, because even though Scott was several years older than Coco from Through No Fault of My Own (the book I just read about a girl growing up on Summit during the Jazz Age) the tour connected some of the places Coco references in her diary entries. It felt like puzzle pieces fitting together right in front of me.

It was also fascinating because of what happened to the Summit Hill neighborhood after the Jazz Age hey-day. The whole neighborhood fell into terrible disrepair for many years - in fact, as one person on our tour told our guide, his parents basically called the streets we were walking through off-limits to him growing up because of the crime rate.

It's hard to get my mind around that idea, because today's Summit Hill houses are by and large beautifully restored. Beginning in the 1970s, an era of urban renewal began, and people began investing in the neighborhood again and restoring its houses. Before that time, our guide told us, even some of the houses with Fitzgerald connections could be bought for next-to-nothing, including the place where he wrote This Side of Paradise. I need to learn more about this era in St. Paul's history.

And maybe that's the mark, Reader, of a really good tour: one that simultaneously gives a lot of answers and begs more questions to dig into down the road. Tell me: What's the best tour you've ever taken, and why was it so good?

No surprises here

It's Wordless Wednesday, but if I were to use words, I would suggest that every autumn Wednesday might include a photo having to do with trees and leaves.

Apples to applesauce

You know how you'll scan a recipe (or whatever) in a magazine, and you just can't let go of it? It's like an earworm, but...an ideaworm. I am very prone to this. (Awhile back, I read the words "chocolate chip cookies" in a book and Had To Make Them.) Back in the summer, I read about making applesauce in a crock pot, and I haven't been able to let go of the idea since.

And wouldn't you know it? My route home from the race on Saturday had the option of passing not one but two apple orchards. (My friend Sara's eyes might be flaring at this point in the post because we have a standing orchard date for the fall, after our magnificent trip last year. But rest assured, Sara, that I am still ready to collect more apples, because I didn't actually pick my own on this trip.)

Yes, that's right. After the race, I arrived at Aamodt's Apple Farm in Stillwater full of energy and ready to harvest some apples. But as soon as I got out of the car, even with the sweatshirt and my uber-warm pink fleece, I was still bombarded with the inevitable post-race chill. (It's nothing fancy or dramatic. I just get really, really cold.)

Thus I decided to grab a bunch of apples instead from the orchard's store, which was pretty crowded and pretty cute.

And maybe it was a little bit of a cop-out to pick apples from the comfort of a cozy store instead of venturing into the orchard, but it was still exciting to have this as my option instead of the grocery store:

I selected 17 Haralsons, paid for them and headed back toward the car. I might have ended up with a box of freshly-popped hot kettle corn to take home with me. Oh, my.

The next day, I got to business. I used this recipe, which I had randomly chosen via Google because I liked the ingredient list: eight apples, a cinnamon stick, brown sugar, lemon peel and lemon juice.

Start:

Halfway:

Ready for cooking!

Caution: This makes one's home smell like apple pie for the better part of a Sunday afternoon, which makes one actually want apple pie.

The final result? Almost as good as apple pie, especially if your first serving is served hot in a bowl with a little scoop of vanilla bean ice cream on top. (It's also good mixed into oatmeal.)

This is just about the easiest project in the world: I chopped the apples, and you don't even have to do that - even if they were just sliced, the apples just break down into applesauce texture over time in the crock pot. I didn't even have to blend it.

I have the feeling this is going to become a regular Sunday routine around Miles and Laurel.