Trails to nowhere

So, I am in 'training' to walk a half-marathon in April.  What this means is that I have given myself permission to leave the house - alone - for hours at a time with no list of things to accomplish.  I just strap on my shoes (thank you Mike for good ones!) and hit the sidewalk.

Yesterday my goal distance was 8.2 miles in less than 3 hours, putting me at 20 miles for the week.  I wandered Albany and found a bark chip trail.  Despite the mud and darkening skies I turned down the trail.  About a mile down the trail I knew that it was not a 'loop' and I was eventually just going to have to turn around, but trail walking is so much more peaceful and pretty than sidewalking, even if it is a bit slower.  When I got to the end of the trail, marked by a bench, I noticed a smaller footworn path continued on and followed it.  I kept following it as it grew more and more overgrown with evil clothes-snagging blackberry brambles.  I kept following it over fallen logs big enough to require a bit of climbing.  Sure enough at the end of this pathetic track was a locked gate to some kind of wheelhouse.

So I turned around and walked back, being pelted with hail and bleeding from blackberry scratches.  I had plenty of time to contemplate why a trail goes nowhere.  Drug drops? Homeless? Or was it started by one person bushwhacking to see where they could get, and then continued by people like me - somewhat lost but open to adventure?  Did I just contribute to some other poor soul battling their way to a locked fence?

Despite the icy rain, the thorns and the lack of destination, I got in 8.5 miles in 2 hours and 45 minutes of blissful time to be with myself.