On a misty morning along Harvest Lane, I set out on a brisk hike, metronome ticking in my ears as I aimed to hold an eleven-minute pace toward the Maddock Trail. My goal was to find the hollow tree my friend Jackie—who hikes these woods on crutches—had photographed, marked by two white mushrooms near Madrona Farm. Along the winding trails, a friendly dog kept pace with me while its owner followed behind, and together we passed quiet meadows, weathered stumps, and signs of wildlife. Though I never found the elusive tree, the search carried me across Mercer, Tod, and Blenkinsop Trails, where I paused to take photos and soak in the stillness of the Gary oak meadows. As music from a Grateful Dead jam played through my earbuds, I climbed and descended the familiar slopes, keeping a steady rhythm between effort and pace. By the time I returned to Harvest Lane, almost 11 kilometers later, the morning dew had begun to fade, and I signed off as the Running Jackal—content with the journey, if not the discovery.