Running through Mill Creek Park is both a gift and a challenge. Anyone who’s done it knows exactly what I mean. The hills demand your breath, the trails keep you humble, and yet — somehow — the beauty of it all distracts you from the burn.

There’s something about that park that feels like a metaphor for life: hard climbs, breathtaking views and a steady rhythm that reminds you to keep going.

But recently, I decided to do something a little different. I ventured off.

One morning, instead of looping around Lake Newport like I normally do, I took a turn — one of those small decisions that ends up feeling kind of big. I veered off the familiar path and started running into the neighborhoods that border the park.

These are the kinds of streets most of us drive past without much thought, but they’re lucky enough to be directly connected to one of the greatest gems our Valley has to offer.

And as I ran, I found myself thinking: “Wouldn’t it be something to live here?”

To just step out of your front door, jog a few turns and instantly find yourself in the heart of Mill Creek Park.

I imagined the convenience of it, the luxury of those early morning runs without the drive and the ease of being so close to all that natural beauty.

So the next day, I went a little farther. Each run, I pushed deeper into those neighborhoods — not in speed, but in curiosity. I wanted to see what was behind the park’s edge. What kind of life unfolded there?

And it was everything I imagined — and then some.

Don’t you love when that happens?

When the vision in your head, the little daydream you’ve carried around, turns out to be exactly as good as you hoped?

I saw people walking their dogs straight from their homes into the park trails, then back again, as if it were the most natural extension of their backyard.

I saw neighbors talking to one another — not just quick waves, but full-on conversations, laughter echoing across driveways. I was met with smiles, with nods, with a sense of belonging that surprised me. Even as a runner just passing through, I felt like I’d been invited in.

And as I made my way back to my usual route, I couldn’t help but think about how often we stick to our familiar loops — not just in running, but in life.

We tell ourselves that the path we know is safest, most efficient, most reliable. But what if the best parts — the most spectacular, cool or simply different moments — are waiting just beyond where we normally turn around?

Sometimes, the real gift isn’t in perfecting your pace or sticking to your routine.

It’s veering off course, just enough to see what’s been there all along.

So maybe that’s my encouragement for this season: take the turn. Go down the unfamiliar street.

See what beauty lives just past the edge of what you know. You might find connection, inspiration or maybe just a new favorite path.