I didn’t plan to start at Murrell Park. The plan was Rockledge Park — 7:30am, trail shoes laced, coffee in hand. But the gate didn’t open until 8am, and I wasn’t willing to lose that time standing in a parking lot. So I pivoted. Found the alternate trailhead at Murrell Park, pulled in, and was on the trail by 7:45.
Looking back, I think that detour was the first lesson of the day. Sometimes the entrance you planned for is closed — and the one you find instead leads you exactly where you were meant to go.
Easter was in the air before I ever reached the cliffs.
The North Shore Trail is part of a 19-mile system that winds along Lake Grapevine, and I want to be honest with you — it is stunning. The kind of trail that earns every step. The mud in some sections was real but nothing that stopped me. The lake appears through the trees in these unexpected moments that make you catch your breath. And then there are the cliffs.
When I hit the first overlook and stood at the edge of that cliff looking out over the water, something cracked open in me. It was Easter Monday. A day about resurrection. About things that were dead coming back to life. And standing up there, I felt it — not just in the holiday, but in my own chest.
I have years of trauma I have kept bottled up. And standing on that cliff, I made myself a promise: I am going to stick with therapy this time, no matter what it costs me.
I don’t say that lightly. And I don’t say it for sympathy. I say it because this blog has always been about the truth of what movement does to a person — what it uncovers, what it forces you to face, what it quietly hands back to you when you’re not expecting it. Nine and a half miles of trail will do that. It strips away the noise and leaves you alone with yourself in the most honest way.
By mile seven my body started talking back. My upper back was tightening. My knees were letting me know they had opinions. I slowed down. I thought about stopping. And then — I smelled it.
Honeysuckle.
Just like that, drifting across the trail from somewhere in the trees. Sweet and completely unexpected. I stopped walking, closed my eyes, and smiled. Just smiled. Because sometimes the trail gives you exactly what you need exactly when you need it — not a finish line, not a PR, just a smell that says keep going, you’re almost there.
Some people find God in church on Easter Sunday. I found Him in honeysuckle at mile seven on a muddy trail in Texas.
I crossed the finish a little after 11am. 9.5 miles. Three and a half hours. Voice recordings at mile one, mile five, and at the end — all of them honest, all of them mine. I stood there for a moment, sweaty and tired and full in a way that is hard to explain unless you’ve felt it yourself.
Rebirth doesn’t always look the way you imagine. Sometimes it’s a sunrise service. Sometimes it’s standing on a cliff above a lake, making a promise to yourself that you intend to keep. Sometimes it’s honeysuckle at mile seven when your knees hurt and your back is done and you choose to keep moving anyway.
Happy Easter. I’ll see you on the next trail. 🥾🙏
Trail notes for fellow hikers:
The Rockledge Park entrance opens at 8am — plan accordingly or start from Murrell Park as an alternate trailhead. Trail was muddy in sections after recent weather but fully passable. Light traffic on Easter Monday made it feel peaceful and private. Part of a 19-mile system — plenty of room to come back and go longer. Bring water, wear layers, and take your time on the cliff sections. Worth every step.
With love and trail dust,
Runmom_6
Runmom_6 