There is an old railroad bridge partially hidden in the woods on my running trail. I have caught glimpses of it through the trees for years, telling myself that one of these days I would stand on that thing and snap some photos.
Each time, however, I decided I didn’t want to break my stride (or brave the copperhead snakes) to try to reach it.
Until this weekend.
It was hotter than hell. I don’t know what possessed me, except maybe the excuse to walk instead of run. I told myself that this was eventually going to crumble away so no time like the present. I trekked about a quarter of a mile through the underbrush.
As it turns out, the metal track itself is gone, but the metal part of the bridge that you see in the photo above is at the dead center of about 200 feet of railroad trestle. It was obscured largely by trees and giant weeds growing through it. Many of the wooden beams were rotted.
If you have ever walked across a railroad trestle bridge, you know that each beam is separated by about a foot of nothing. Nothing but a clear view of the long drop beneath your feet…
And yet I pressed on.
Testing out each beam before putting my full weight on it.
You might be waiting for the fall.
But it didn’t come. By golly I got to the center of the bridge and memorialized the event with some awesome pictures and made it back to safety unscathed.
And I STILL finished my five miles…