This morning when I went for a run, I started on one of my standard loops that I've run dozens of times before. After a mile, I felt wanderlust kick in. What if I went this other direction?
I didn't know if the new route would be too long or too short or too hilly, but in the split second I had to decide whether to turn onto my regular trail or veer off my beaten path, I opted to take my chances and choose the unknown.
I passed quaint homes, old barns, and a garden where a young father was teaching his curly haired toddler how to pick raspberries from the bushes. All the sights were welcome: the curve of a shallow creek, a pleasant old stone wall, an overgrown, dilapidated house set far from the road that conjured mysteries in my mind.
And I never would have known that any of it existed had I not tried the other direction.