I used to be so excited to move into a new place. A new routine, new perspective. New. I like new; or I used to like new. I like adventure. I like meeting new people, I like starting new jobs.
But now, I’m scared to death to move into this new house. I’m scared of everything: change, adventure to new places, a new routine, figuring out a running route. But I’m doing it. Maybe all of it for the last time. Maybe this is my forever place.
You see. I’m a runner.
I run from things: boredom, being treated badly, fear, danger.
As I was making my morning coffee in my rented apartment on the edge of the Great Smoky Mountains National Park, I started thinking about the houses I’ve lived in. There are so many houses in so many cities and a few states. I think of these houses with a sense of pride and accomplishment; and failure and loss.
Moving and living in different houses has told the story of my life. From the girl who studied the Sears catalog and planned her home as a kid, to the woman who barely had any possessions and moved to different states and started new jobs.
I’ve always wanted to be settled, I think. This home in Tennessee is my chance. A home with a garage, a fenced in yard and extra bedrooms for guests; a place to settle in. It’s 30 minutes from work and Great Smoky Mountains National Park.
While living in this house, I write and reflect on homes and places I’ve lived. No hold barred. The truth of where I lived and what I thought. I write about the homes and places that inspired me or made me leave. Here are the places I’ve lived.
Tabernash, Colorado
The Story of The Tabernash House (2016)
I wonder if most people have lived in a house most of their life. A stand alone house; not a condo or townhome. A home not connected to anything else. Once I left my parents home I lived in so many different types of homes but never a single, stand alone home until I moved into the Tabernash house. I had boyfriends who had houses but never my own or never rented on my own. In my teens I had a dream of a home with a white picket fence. But that dream vanished with a new dream – to live out west.
One of my favorite books is House on Mango Street. And while I always had a place to live, even owned a condo of my own, I never had a house of my own.
It is 2016. I’m 45 years old and through a series of unfortunate events, I am now renting a house, an entire house. It feels strange walking about the house, seeing all aspects of the house that I now need to take care of. There is grass that needs to be mowed, debris in the yard that should be thrown away and two plants that sit outside the door than Anne, one of my neighbors gave me with instruction on how to care for. Wow – what responsibility. I’m not sure I’m up for that.
When I have free time, keeping up the yard is NOT on the list. For one year I have to take care of this house and I have to be alone in it (with my two dogs) and I need to figure out the wood stove. On May 23, I wake up and it’s cold; 38 degrees. The house is 59 degrees and the downstairs heat comes on every once and awhile. I have to figure this all out.
The next six months will be challenging as well because I’m training for two Ironman races. And while I feel dedicated to the training, it overwhelms my life with the training I have to do. The opposite is boredom. These races get me out of the house, keep me healthy and at a good weight. But after this last race in November, I vow to sell my bike and just run. Ironman just takes over your life. And it’s expensive.
I really want to save money to buy house , I think, when I move back to NH which is my Plan B if this job doesn’t work out.
But for now, I live in Tabernash, work in Granby and train for Ironman Lake Placid and Ironman Arizona while talking care of two dogs and a house. Pray for me.
Winnie on the deck of the Tabernash House, posing for Grand Dog contest.
Killington, Vermont
The House on Terrace, aka The Killington House (2001)
In a mix of unfortunate and fortunate events, I found a house to move into with my dog, Abbey. The house was off Telephon Trail, 3 miles from the Killington access road, behind the Wobbly Bar. Despite being so lucky to find this place, I was a bit depressed because it was temporary. I knew I would have to be looking for a new place come fall.
I only had access to the lower floors, which was two bedrooms with bunk beds, a kitchen, living room and bathroom – furnished.. It got very little light but I had a place to live, for the summer.
Abbey needed a lot of exercise as a young, yellow labrador pup – 10 months old. Every morning was the same: she would jump on my bed and roll around; nuzzling her head into me. Within minutes her enthusiasm to do something got me out of bed, most likely by 5am.
I’d put on my hiking boots and in the car we’d go. Sometimes it would just be us, and sometimes I’d picked up my neighbor’s dog Jack who lived down the street.
We gravitated to the same trails over and over again: the AT, the Long Trail, Trail 17, Bear Mountain, and the Ram’s Head and Pico work roads.
I became in tune to the natural world; mountain time – canine time. For most of my life I never noticed sunrises or how the light changed in the morning. This summer began to know every twist and turn on Trail 17; where the water was, particularly the gray, murky water that turned my yellow lab into a gray lab. I began to feel connected to this place by hiking over and over, every trail.
I met Melissa while I was walking Abbey down the dirt road that is Telephone Trail one day. Abbey loves to chase cars so I had to make sure I had her close while cars drove by. Melissa rolled down her window and introduced herself. She is excited to learn a woman, me, has moved into the house next to her. “It’s hard to meet women up here,” she said.
Every man who lives in Killington says the same thing. I learned that she is single and likes to hike and mountain bike. Proof that it’s never too late to find a new best friend.
I always wished life would give me another summer like this one. From morning mountain hikes to swimming in rivers and lakes with friends to cool off during the late afternoon. This Killington summer in the house off Telephon Trail was one I will never forget.
Rutland, Vermont
Bridgewater, Vermont
Steamboat Springs, Colorado
Granby, Colorado
Hot Sulphur Springs, ColoradoTucson, Arizona
Goldsboro, North Carolina
Plattsburgh, New York
Rye, New Hampshire
Bryant Pond, Maine
Rumford, Maine
Gatlinburg, Tennessee
Concord, New Hampshire
Montgomery, Alabama
Merced, California