As I head to the trails earlier and earlier on the weekends (0430-0500a early) I'm starting to find that I'm usually the first and only person wandering out there. Just me and the deer. This being the case, there are a PLETHORA of freshly spun webs hanging from the trees across the path. The first circuit is always the worst.
Nothing violently rips your mind from out of a zen-like, blinders on, meditation-of-the-trail-like-state as the feeling of a large bulbous spider scampering up the side of your neck. The snap back to reality from a cacophonous display of flailing limbs and panicked flatulence usually ends with spider guts smeared liberally on the neck and hands.
Once that's over with, and the trail has been rounded, then I can finally just let my mind wander as I find my pace.
The juggling of life, family, and the general outpouring of a runner's sole (roll on snare).
