The Interurban

Last summer, Joel, Amy and I logged more miles than I care to remember on the Cedar Valley Nature Trail.  It was conveniently close to the Marshall grandparents for babysitting, beverages and ice packs, and offered a protected running path for miles and miles.

I’m kind of a sappy girl, which made the first few double-digit mile runs tolerable as I considered that Grandma Stone used to ride up and down the same path in the Interurban railway.  The refurbished depot still stands, serving as a historical museum for the curious and a rest stop for the weary athletes.

Last week when we were at my parent’s, Michael’s daily workout involved a 40-minute bike ride on the trail.  Monkey 2 and Monkey 3 had to tag along and do exactly what Uncle Michael was doing, so we loaded up Grandma and Grandpa’s little kid bikes and followed, along with cousins Lesli and Maggi.

I told my cousins about the railroad that once spanned the same bed of earth, which made Aedan dive to the side of the trail every few minutes yelling, “Did you hear that?  There’s a train coming!”

A group photo commemorated our trek down the same path Grandma once took, and I’m hoping that a picture of her standing near the depot exists somewhere.  Yep.  I am that sappy.