#28 Cow Path Worship
I'm running along Shoal creek on the first day after the winter storm in Austin. I find running terribly unpleasant. I only run so that my brain can acknowledge base reality for 30 minutes and keep me from going insane. Today it's made even more unpleasant by all the fallen trees; weak trees creating hard times. As I approach every tree, I notice paths paved by footprints that lead me around it. I'm surprised at how fast these paths have emerged because it's been barely a few hours since the storm passed. Some trees have multiple paths around them. Sometimes if I choose a path at random and go along it, I come to an area that is a puddle of footsteps that don't go anywhere. It seems like multiple people took this path, came upon this point, and said to themselves, "quite a pickle I find myself in.". They then stomped their feet a few times in a huff and looked to find another way around the darn tree. I do the same thing.
I keep running, but it seems like I'll never be the first person to pave a new path around a fallen tree, not for this storm. I'm relieved by this. It's awkward to be the first to create a cow path. You must first make sure no one is watching because you always look like a bumbling fool when you're the first carving a cow path. It's not like you are discovering the existence of black holes; the whole affair lacks any sort of charisma that can offset how dumb you look. "One step in front of the other, oh that's a puddle, great now my old man sneakers are covered in mud. I hope there's no one around when I turn my head." So it goes. When forced to do it, I approach creating cow paths the same way I approach women, with great trepidation, low expectations, and ready to accept nature's mysterious ways if I fail.
Where I grew up, people didn't have to worry about bringing a cow path into existence. There were always actual cows paving cow paths. The paths cows paved were always windier than man-engineered ones but people still used them. That's how much everyone wanted to avoid creating their own cow paths. Cows paved the way so that we didn't have to. This is why we worship cows in India.
I keep coming across more trees on my run, and I remember my friend mentioning a man in Austin who builds his own trails for fun and for spite against the parks and rec department. "He's a grumpy guy, but he likes building trails and hates getting permissions," she said. Eventually, the trails he builds get used so much that the city designates them and takes over their maintenance.
I'm glad the mythical trail builder of Austin exists, but that's never going to be me. I'll probably be the 150th person to use the trail and then post on Instagram about how I found a hidden gem. Living on stolen valor of cows and trail builders. Just another sheep.
Since I'm one of them, I can spot the sheep who live off the cow path pavers. I go to New York, and I see guys jumping turnstiles. They have a look of arrogance and pride when they do it. As if they are carving infrastructure to fit their reality and creating new paths. It takes something to be the first turnstile jumper in a city, but after the 150th person, it's just a culture man. It's a cow path that already exists. This is why orthodox Jews and hipsters in Williamsburg stand out from the rest of the population but look just like each other. Just going along the cow paths created by a few who had to step in that puddle, get dirt on their shoes, get pricked by a thorny branch, and then make it look like everything went according to plan.
I come to the end of my run and decide to make a quick run to the grocery store. As I drive to it, I notice that my regular route is congested. There is a left turn that I could take to go around the traffic that no one seems to be taking. I take it, paving a new cow path in this narrative, and then promptly get stuck in an even bigger traffic jam. "Should have stuck to the way everyone went," I tell myself.