All our possessions are in a Mayflower moving van while we await their arrival in Bentonville. We are sleeping on air mattresses and sharing a single folding chair. It is the equivalent of camping – our great Summer 2022 camp adventure. Bentonville welcomed us with summer. Feels like temperature 100+ all week. It is a dry heat. It lacks the high humidity of FL in June.

Bikefest kicked off the weekend in Bentonville. A record number of attendees are anticipated – the additional bikers were evident on the trails this afternoon. Half day Friday allowed me to run at 3:30 p.m. today. My initial thought was a shorter run, factoring the heat into the afternoon. After navigating 7^th Ave. in full sun, I embarked onto the Razorback Greenway at the entrance to Crystal Bridges Museum. The full sun dissipated into shade and a light breeze. With a few brief pauses for photos, I continued north along Slaughter Pen. The shade allowed me to quicken my pace, though the welcome shade was short lived as I ran across areas of full sunlight interspersed with tree cover. The mix of local and visiting bikers passed me on the trail, along with a group of three who completed three loops while I ran a heat altered 10:50+ mile pace. Prior to approaching my turnaround point at mile 3.52, I veered onto a wavy dirt bike trail for a dose of new terrain versus the hard concrete surface of the Greenway. There was a noticeable difference on the hard pack dirt. Every runner has inherent knowledge that concrete is the most unforgiving surface to run. Yet, I have a long history of running on concrete for years in Florida. Today was different. The three quarters of a mile on the gravel provided me a welcome reminder to seek that surface more frequently. Allow the give of the gravel to offer a more accommodating surface and run it when it is present. One caution there – watch and listen for bikers. They are less forgiving than the surface when a runner, or walker, is in the space they consider their own.

Today is Day 4,575. 31,000+ miles elapsed. We are in new space, offering new terrain and sights. The two deer that I approached paused and watched me intently as I interrupted their feeding and grazing. Ultimately, they turned inward toward the trees, abandoning the grass surface, yet reminded me that this is their spot. I was the one trespassing space they have held in their domain. Bikers collectively control the space – rarely conceding to a runner. Wildlife takes a stance, then often retreats. Where in the hierarchy was it determined that the runner is the discretionary participant who is deemed the one to defer to the biker, the deer, and other natural predators?

Tomorrow is Saturday. The farmer’s market awaits in the morning.