Stuck in the mud

I know, I know. I promised, I swore, that I would never, ever start running again. For three straight years I had one injury after another - the foot ligament tear, the knee scope, etc., etc. - all because I used to run every single day at least five or six miles. To give you an example of how dedicated a runner I used to be - in college (yes, this is mildly embarrassing) I would wake up at 7 a.m. on a SATURDAY when I should have been sleeping off a hangover and run the trails behind Bishop's Peak in San Luis Obispo, California. If you're ever out there, by the way, those are some of my all-time favorite trail runs.
Anyway, it's easy to swear off running when you physically can't. But now that I'm healthy again (knock on wood), my old addiction has returned and I just can't help it. So instead of fighting it, I've decided to set limits. I never run more than three times a week - ever. And never more than three or four miles at a time. I feel like that's a pretty good concession.
So recently, on one of my runs through Volunteer Park on Capitol Hill, I discovered a hidden (well, hidden to me) network of trails. I couldn't believe it - after living here for 10 months, how was it possible that I didn't know about Interlacken Park?
This is the supremely cool thing about Seattle. In the middle of all the retro shops and restaurants and mansions, there's this Secret Garden of running trails. They weave in and out all over the Hill, with trails starting and ending off random streets that you would never take notice of unless you were looking. I love discovering things like that because not only does it make me feel like a city insider, it also helps me branch out on my runs since I tend to be one of those people that will do the same loop over and over again.
Today I ran those trails thinking that with ice on the roads, it would be way smarter to run on the dirt. As if there was really dirt. No, it was more like this soupy, quick-sand- like muck that sucked in my sneakers with every step I took (but hey, that's probably better for your gluteus maximus). In fact, apparently the city had actually closed some of the trails, but the signs were kicked down by some other intrepid runner so I figured, oh, well, I'm already here.
As long as you can get past the fact that Interlacken looks like a perfect place for the homeless to camp or the stalkers to hang out, it's fabulous for running. But I might wait until the wet season passes. Oh, wait. I'm in Seattle. I forgot.

P.S. This old school photo is me finishing the one and only half-marathon I ever ran, like six or seven years ago. I ran the whole thing (although my stepmom, who's also in the picture, kicked my ass) but when I crossed the finish line, I promptly threw up all over.