After a six year
haitus, I finally made the trip out to my favorite Massachussetts town- Wakefield. Located eleven miles north of Boston, off of I-95 is a small, residential town filled with families and 30 something year-olds. It's infamous landmark is Lake Quannapowitt.
I had been waiting for the perfect day to visit. The weather would be nice, the sun would be out and the
temperture would be warm, but there is no such thing as the perfect day. So off I went to visit- the sky was gray and gloomy and the air was frigid. I tried to be happy and was half-successful, I tried to believe the weather was warm enough for running, but I was wrong. It was too damn windy.
I sat in my car
staring at Lake Q and taking in the moment. Memories flooded my mind of the
past, but honestly, all I could remember were
the warm, hot sunny days. I also remembered how easy it was back then. I had an apartment of my own, and a job and made good money. I closed my eyes and shook my
head wishing the thoughts away. Nothing lasts forever.
I left in 2008 to live in a small, deserted, desolate town with a guy I now despise. That's when I became a runner. I hated driving everywhere I needed to go- small country living is a lot more stressful than city living. So I went running on the running course at my local YMCA.
I got out of my car feeling excited. The last time I was here, I was a walker - not a runner. I looked out into the distance, and was ready to get going! Fortunately, the music on my phone played instantly (it usually buffers for the first five minutes of my run) and I was off on a strong start. I ran on the lakeside until I reached the
cemetery, where I turned left and ran to the sidewalk. Like a NASCAR track, the lake is an imperfect three mile oval with four turns. The first stretch on the side of the road was busy, with lots of runners and people walking their dogs. The wind chilled my fingers and went through my sweater and I lost my energy to pick up the pace. I
was okay with that, though there wasn't much view to brag about, I got lost in my thoughts. It was a moment where I realized that it really is the small things that count in life. Such as remembering the time I found out my sister was pregnant was on a bright sunny day while I walked around the lake. Ten months after hearing the good news, that baby died and taking a walk around the lake helped me feel a little more relaxed.
At the end of the road, I took
turn one and felt energized to sprint a little faster. The lake was to my right and There was a
strong sense of peace and calm overwhelm me at that moment.. For a split second, it felt good to be running in the cold - and it felt special that I was back on Lake Q. I approached turn two and to my left was the busy streets with a gas station, a Honey Dew
Donuts and then, my favorite, "The Gingerbread House." This place is a bakery and they make the most sinfully delicious muffins that make the health nuts like myself weak in the knees. I was tempted to stop in- but I resisted and kept running. I was slowed by pedestrian
traffic but I didn't stop. I ran and ran and I felt my heart beat faster in my chest. I looked at the lake and stopped running- the sun in the distance tried to force itself through the ugly gray clouds.
The view was somewhat breathtaking and I felt compelled to stop and stare. I looked around and memories came rushing back.
There were times when I went rollerblading around this lake, other times I rode my bike.
Across the street are colonial houses, I had always daydreamed of living in one of the over-priced homes. They are old houses rich with history and are still well maintained. Some of the houses are big enough to have been converted into several small apartments, but I know the cheapest would probably cost $1,200 if lucky. That's the truth about Wakefield, it's an expensive town with a lot of high class folks settling down.
I decided to keep on running until I reached the end of the lake, where there's a small park and lots of green land to play on. On hot sunny days, people will sit in a chair or on a blanket to eat food or read a book. I could have taken
turn three to run back to where my car was parked, but instead, I kept walking forward into the town- where there's a veteran's memorial in the center of the road- and lots of small shops on the sidewalks. There
are a total of two liquor stores within walking distance, two small pizza shops owned by
hardworking blue collar folks who've probably owned the shop since the 70s or so. It's a bustling little area and everything you want is right there: the post office, the library, the
townhall, the CVS and Subway and a few coffee shops - there's an eye doctor, a dentist, a bank, a tool and home garden shop. And then, to the right, there's a street that I'm very familiar with. So familiar in
fact that I naturally, without thought turned the corner and as I did so, my stomach ached- not in a painful way- not in a way that I would need to rest or drink water or take an
elka-seltzer - it was one of those aches that was like a punch in the gut- "a remember you left this home behind" kind of pain. It hurt a little to see what I gave up and I couldn't continue to walk the street. I was afraid if I got closer to the house, I'd
accidentally walk up the driveway and then I'd be tempted to walk right in- like I used to so many times.
I've lived in a lot of houses and apartments, yet I've never felt this connection that I feel about this home. I'm not sure what the obsession is- it's not
like I owned it or had invested a lot of cash remodeling it.
So off I went to continue my walk into town, where I walked past the small local Farmers grocery shop. I continued my walk ahead-and reached the corner. On the left is a small owned gym, the one I trained at.
Sure it's small with lots of old equipment bodybuilders
love but it's always busy. Soon
enough I was walking past the auto-shop that had a yard filled with lots of old and new cars that needed to be fixed. I had my car
in that shop plenty of times, it's owned by older guys that like to race on a drag strip with their old street cars.
Behind that are the train tracks. This train is known as the commuter rail, it's big, and fast. It's more reliable during work hours and I wouldn't take it out if I wanted to go to Boston for a night of drinks and
dinner but I used to take it in the morning on my way to work. It was comfortable and I'd be able to write or read without being interrupted by obnoxious passengers.
I continued my walk - and realized I didn't need to run. I was at peace- but I wondered why moving back was suddenly an unrealistic dream that may not come true for me. I wondered why the memories of my reality were one that were confused with fantasy.
I stopped, and
stared at the street sign... Chestnut Street. This was my home, close to my heart. Maybe I felt so
strong about living here because it was mine. It was a place I lived that didn't belong to anyone but me- and I had learned about living. It was comfortable -where everything I really did need was right there, including the dry cleaners. Not far down from the street is the salon where I'd get my hair done, my eyes waxed, my nails polished and my body
messaged.
As I walked away - I realized, had I never left, I would've never experienced the many wonderful adventures I've been on. I would've never learned to run-
nor would I have attempted to write about NASCAR or even made it to the media center and traveled to more than one track in small secluded southern towns. I wouldn't have learned to survive on less- all I would've had was what was offered in Wakefield. I would've become one of those people working a job, earning a nice paycheck but only affording the home I lived in, where I'd sit on the porch after a walk around the lake, drinking a beer and watching the sun set and
day dreaming of doing- what I actually did do.
Wakefield is a town that offers all the daily, materialistic things one needs to survive in life. Yet- the life experiences I had in the world away from Wakefield are priceless. I'd love to live there again, when I'm ready to settle down and live a cozy-comfortable life with nothing but the house I live in.
