This has been a bad week for running. I have not gotten motivated enough to give up sleep and make it happen in the morning. And I have been home too late in the evening to really make a go of it. Too many things to balance. We a had a friend visiting for three nights and, of course, we stayed up late to hang. He did come all the way from California. This morning, however, I finally rallied for a morning run.
It wasn’t long. I had to get back so I could get myself and the kids ready for the day. But it was fine. I left when it was light enough to see (no headlamp required) but the sun had not yet risen. It was the perfect morning, although it was cold (26 degrees when I left the house). I had no regrets about losing a little sleep.
There is a time when the world feels perfectly at peace. The light creeps over the hills but the sun will not appear for a bit. The eastern sky is pink or golden. The blackbirds are beginning to chirp their chorus. The frost glows. The air is still. No one else seems to be stirring. The river shushes smoothly under the bridge. It is quiet except for the waking birds and the sound of my feet.
That is the morning I had. The mud was mostly frozen, so it was easy to navigate the rutted road–no sinking into the mire. I crunched along past the fields, through the woods, onto the open road and over the hill to see the sun toss its head over the mountains. And then the world was bright. I felt the warm spring angle of that sun immediately, my layers instantly too much. As I trotted north, the light flashed through the bare trees like the light from an old reel projector.
So maybe it wasn’t a bad week for running. I haven’t gotten in many miles but this morning sure did feel like it made up for it. It was peaceful. It was beautiful. I felt great. I came home feeling calm and ready for what might come. As I turned from the road onto our long driveway, I felt happy to be alive, that this day was a gift. I felt as though I was starting, right that moment, with days and days of living to come. And hopefully, I am.
If I do not have those days and days left before I reach the great whatever it is that comes after this life, it will not have been a bad day to end on. I hope, however, to have many more mornings like this one.