tuesrun

running into a void; running as void

104701746_629725940964667_5216301799963580231_non weekend past, i headed out for a leisurely run.  i roll my eyes when i say that; there is nothing in my experience that feels ‘leisurely’ when i move in a running sort of fashion. the morning was one in a series of lovely days we’ve been blessed with.

from the moment i shifted from the walk down the laneway to the run, my body felt good. i felt light, i was light.  the touch of my bare feet on the asphalt was but a whisper, a kiss, in the thich nhat hanh spirit.

it was a slow run, meant to simply move me along the surface, the gentle arc of the earth moving beneath me, with no effort to run fast/er or further. yet, before i realized it, i was past my intended turnaround point, adding my every 7 to 10 day 10% increase in distance a few days early.

just before my turnaround point, an oil delivery truck pulled into a laneway ahead of me and then, a kilometre into my return distance, the truck passed me in a boisterous whir and whoosh of engine calls and slipstream.  as it climbed the hill ahead of me i noticed what was agreeable in this stentorian beast and how the qualities of its calls changed as it climbed the hill, peaked,  and disappeared from sight.  once out of my sight, the call of the wild fuel truck lingered, fading, fading, fading. i could imagine it moving along the roadway and i became curious as to how long i could hear its song.

there came a moment when i could no longer be sure if it was still within earshot or simply lost to me.  beyond that moment was nothing. nothingness. emptiness. sunyata.

tuesdayrunamplification

a few days later i headed out into the oppressive heat and humidity which had been visiting our part of the world for a few days at that point.  each day collecting itself with a heat warning wrapped in a humidex number.   i love heat, but not so much high humidity.

damp before i ran a step, each stride was an effort, an exercise in squishing all my internal moisture out through every single pore of my body.  small rivulets collected and spilt forth from the back of my hairline, the bend in my elbows grew ever increasingly damp, my eyes stung with the salty fills from my brow, smudging the lenses of my glasses, my headband saturated.

my world became a soggy soft-focused sudoric steamy stretch of scenery through which i tried to breathe and move.

i thought about the sunbeams gathering in the droplets which hung so heavy in the air.  each tiny collection an opalescent prism, bending the rays of the sun into more intense heat, acting like ocean spray on barely clad beach goers.  the brightness of these flashpoints causing me to keep my gaze mostly downwards.

if these vehicles of humidity could do so much to amplify the heat and light of the sun, i began to wonder if they could do the same for the diffusion of odour particles moving freely through the air.  surely they could, for on this day i was profoundly aware of the smells. there no was wind to carry them, but there were these moisture beads — fragrance beads — to serve as conveyance.  the dung spread on farm fields, the oily diesel of passing trucks, the sheep manure, the sulphurous remnants of skunk adventures settling acrid in my mouth.

short runnings in my mind

todayrunon this day, a short, faster run in anticipation of 7 hours of a steel mace vinyasa conditioning course later in the day.

the humidity has taken a dip and there is a slight reprieve in the heat. it is warm, but not hot.  i set out at a pace faster than i normally do and settle my breath into the rhythm of this demand over the first half kilometre.  and mind falls into a quiet place and senses awaken.

after the first half of the run, when i turn into the glory of the sun on my face, i must push myself to maintain this faster pace.  it is my first run of the year where i find i fall into mindgames to make it happen, counting light standards, noting distance markers, reeling myself home as i count down.  the to-me-a-hill looks to subdue me and i know i must give in to that or do myself in, though my effort remains stronger, even here.  before i peak, i am panting and feeling a familiar tightness in my chest and shoulders. all the signs that i am working my edge.

it takes me longer to resettle the pattern of breath, stride, heartbeat after the not-hill, but it is do-able and again mind falls into a quiet place. ah, but only for a bit.

in the space of the run, that place between quiet/empty and fighting my winds, a new zone opens; a territory that has found the safety and gentle temerity to exist.  bits of my life begin to burble, breaking the surface of my mind in soft ways, lacking the turbulence of just weeks ago. it is okay.

postrunwhen we walk like (we are rushing), we print anxiety and sorrow on the earth. we have to walk in a way that we only print peace and serenity on the earth… be aware of the contact between your feet and the earth. walk as if you are kissing the earth with your feet.

― thich nhat hanh