Walk This Way: An Open Letter to the BWI Trail

As many of you know, I had spinal fusion surgery in early March this year. As a part of my road to healing, I was told that the best thing to do was to walk. This was pressed upon me by the surgeon, the physicians assistant, all my physical therapists, nurses, basically every medical professional I came in contact with. Which, really, at that point walking was not a hardship - I spent the previous 18 months nearly unable to walk, so being able to do so without excruciating pain was a joy. So walk, I did.

Once I was cleared to drive again, my path of choice was the BWI Trail. I've racked up a lot of miles on that trail. The following are a few open letter of sorts to the trail. If the trail could read. Or was, you know, human. Whatever.

Dear BWI Trail,

Thank you for your abundant and gorgeously scented honeysuckle, your wild blueberries, the shade trees when temps are high, the random turtle sightings, numerous butterflies, red cardinals, and the pair of yellow finches that followed me for a bit one day as if I were Snow White.  It's so lovely. Nature rules!

Dear BWI Trail,

Nature sucks! What is with that one damn tree that drops a shit ton of mystery berries on a 10 foot section of the trail? You know what happens? Jelly happens! I feel like freakin' Lucy stopping some damn grapes! And fuck you, with the gnats, dead mice, and poison ivy.

Deal BWI Trail,

Please tell your cyclists that you are not a route on Tour de France, and that they're all just suburban douche bags on expensive bikes from Bike Doctor. Lance Armstrong isn't scouting you for a new team with which to make a come back. "Breaking Away" isn't getting remade. Calm the hell down.

Dear BWI Trail,

I'm gonna need 3/4 naked guy to be at least 2/3 clothed. It freaks me out. I'm rounding a corner and suddenly he's there, in little else but his helmet and black bikini bottoms, sitting a top his weird ass high seated bike. What IS that bike, anyway? Please, make it stop.

Also, please ask the workers in random trucks to stop cat calling me along Andover Rd. and Aviation Blvd. I know my ass is sweet (hello - all the walking!), but that's no way to let a lady know that. (but thank you, though, hehe).

Dear BWI Trail,

Thank you for being there. You have helped me heal and become stronger. I;m grateful to walk again, and for the scenery and smooth inclines you provided as I worked my way back to healthy. Despite the stupid berries, the egomaniac cyclists, and weird naked guy, you'll always be my boo.