We thought we were blessed when the Blue Valley district announced we would be getting our very own cross country course. It would cut down our mileage. We would always have the home-team advantage. Our meets would be just behind us.

How wrong we were.

Filled with hills, bends and sadness, it is probably one of the hardest places to run.

They — the non-runners — squeezed a course that is supposed to be three point one miles into less than a half mile area.

Not only is it a winding maze of tears, there are rocks.

“What’s wrong with rocks, Sheila?” you ask. “They aren’t hurting anyone.”

Au contraire.

Runners wear spikes. They are like cleats, but with pointy metal mini knives.

Spike vs. ground means faster times.

Spike vs. rock leads to ankle twists and unpleasant noises.

How are expected to go at a decent pace when our eyes are on the ground and not the person in front of us?

However, they did fill in that nasty ravine. But there was still a ravine on the course because let’s make it as hard as possible.

I’m trying to be positive about this whole debacle since running is a very mental sport, and I want to love the place I’m running three meets a year.