the perils of running in Fargo.

I had 5 miles to log, and going with the "let's see how many random places I can run in" theme, I hit up Map My Run and found this. My hotel was one block off the route, it included a nice riverfront path, what could go wrong? Sounds like fun.

At 7am, later than I usually set out, it was still completely dark out. Wednesday's sunshine melted off part of the blizzard remnants, which were now hiding as black ice all over the sidewalks. I ran in the empty streets. I hit the end of 6th and went into the park, expecting the path to be down by the river, but instead, see a path on the other side of the river and a bridge that sort of suspends itself in the air, with no way up there. I refuse to believe the folks of Fargo are all just fantastic at jumping up there. I don't get it.

So, at dawn, I turn back, and find another "bike route" path further back along 6th. I jump on to it, and immediately ice has me sliding on my butt down into the river valley. OK, back up, running slow just in case. The path is a sheet of ice. Run a little farther, and BAM! About 5 mountains of snow, taller than the lamp posts, had been conveniently placed in the middle of the running path. I run in the adjacent field instead, which used to be tall grass, and I twist my ankle when I step on one of the stalks wrong. Ugh.

Continuing on, the path crosses a road. And that's where I learn, for the first of several times that morning, where the sidewalk ends. Fed up, I ditch the idea of riverfront running and head back into town. And promptly get stopped by a very long train crossing. (BNSF 2912, Ben, FYI.) It's getting lighter out, traffic is picking up, I can finally see the ice, but I'm starting to worry that I'll be late for work.

I turn South, past a lovely park, and fall on the ice AGAIN. Then give up, turn around, and head back. 5 miles. FFffffffffargo.