From my journal: To reach our New Hampshire home (called Peace Ledge) you have to leave a main state route and drive 6.2 miles on a secondary town road that has served our rural area for 250 (plus) years. Originally, the road was merely a footpath (courtesy of native Americans, probably) widened to accommodate colonial horses and buggies. Then, maybe thirty-five years ago, the road was daubed (and redaubed) with asphalt. But most of it was never drained properly with a supporting bed of gravel and stone. Result: severe frost heaves in late winter, and summertime potholes and cracks which can ruin a tire faster than you can say "global warming" (which I say a lot).
Not long ago, while driving home from somewhere, I did a bit of rough math and calculated that I had probably driven this road 2,800 or more times since we first built Peace Ledge. And, on good weather days, I have run the 6.2 miles if I can get my wife, Gail, to come and get me at the other end. You ask why don't I run three ...1