1/10/2016
The itinerary of our trip had us veering inland. I would run past a little state college which was surrounded by trails, trees, and a sea breeze. The kids must have still been on break because there weren’t very many students on campus. I ran past lots of farmland and a couple of new communities which had popped up on reservation road. The smell of old crops lingered in the air. Some of the fields were preparing to reseed the ground. At least I enjoyed the clear skies. The roads were straightforward but there were plenty of curves.
My body paid the price for my hubris of the previous day. I should have known better than to run so speedily at the days end. I trotted lightly when I wasn’t running downhill. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a couple of country boys snuck up behind me and shouted out the window of their truck. Normally I would have kept an even temper and continued on. I wasn’t in a good mood at that moment and I would have gladly thrown some hands with the two juveniles. I yell out to the truck and gestured for them to return. When they looked out of the window I had wished they would pull over. Instead they continued ahead. I tried to figure out why kids in their late teens behaved in such a manner.
Just after that incident, I reached the trailer. I had a hydration break and a light mac and cheese lunch. I continued on until I reached the town of Gonzales. At that point, Crystal managed to secure a place of lodging at the very last minute. We would stay at the Valley Harvest Hotel in the town of Soledad. It was a couple miles away from where I left off but I was very happy to cleanse my body and wash away the aggression that clung to my body.
The next morning started out with a very simple breakfast. I knew my destination was the Yanks RV Resort in Greenfield, California. What I didn’t realize was the extent of all the wine countries located in the state. The Monterey wine country began right where my feet stopped running on day 486. The day threatened rain and once again the cool sprinkles were in the air but the biggest enemy to my running would rear its head. It was invisible but strong. Twenty-five mile per hour gusts defined my entire day.
Rows and rows of grapes decorated the hillsides of wine country. Of course as always there were large estates that went with the land. What surprised me were the migrant workers that were out tending to the vines. I didn’t spot a single dangling grape but groups of workers were trimming something. I passed some groups while they were on break. They seemed festive and happy. While people thought my job of running was difficult, I imagined, their occupation trumped my daily grind. I made my way through some vineyards and eventually when I reached the outskirts of Greenfield many farmhands were ending their day as well. Dozens of vehicles sped past me. They all came from the direction I had run from. Random thoughts passed through my head as I approached the brand new campground. I wondered to myself if the workers appreciated Cesar Chavez and his struggles. I thought about the value of education but I also thought about the value of hard work.
I ran into the grounds to find a wonderful greeting waiting for me. The Yanks RV Resort had drawn up a wonderful sign to welcome me. The grounds were brand new with plenty of amenities. The pool was heated and the spa was hot. The fitness machines were in perfect working order and the facilities were spotless. I took a hot shower and relaxed for the evening. Crystal prepared a couple of bean and egg burritos. It was the perfect ending to a day of battling rough winds.
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