The creek begins north of where I live at a place called Lake Needwood. A controlled dam permits water to flow south freely. In certain sections, the woods on either side of the creek is thick...sometimes there are short trails to run on, but usually nothing of any merit. The great running trails begin once the creek hits Washington DC. I can, and have, run for hours over these trails. Here I am at peace. I see herds of deer, hooting owls, giant black snakes, beaver and even red fox.
I imagine running through time. To my left is the moss covered earthworks of Fort Derussy, part of the ring of fortifications surrounding Washington City during the Civil War. In the early 20th century, President Teddy Roosevelt would come to the park to climb rock walls. Some decades later, Secretary of War Henry Stimson could be seen galloping his steed down the park's limestone horse trails. The murdered intern Chandra Levy was found not far from a trail I run down all the time. The spot where her body was discovered is marked by a rusting spike.
The creek knows none of this. The creek simply babbles...as it has always done.
"Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it. The river was cut by the world's great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time. On some of those rocks are timeless raindrops. Under the rocks are the words, and some of the words are theirs...
I am haunted by waters." - Norman MacLean A River Runs Through It