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the to and fro of pine limbs, trampolining in the gusts and a morning sky gauzy with pillowy pewter-lined clouds greeted me. the gray and coral marbled asphalt, like ill-fitting jigsaw puzzle pieces strewn upon the earth, welcomed the steady chatter of my feet. all manner of happy birds, oblivious to my presence, nooked in swaying trees, filling my body with trilly notes.
no push in my body this morning, just a presence and the ongoing peace making with the wind. partway into the run, the draperies were drawn aside and the sun shone through. i became aware of my shadow self, running just in front of me, leading me into the places i needed to travel.
i moved my awareness to the tidal movements of fluids running through the channels in my brain. brine-swelled pulses delivering oxygen to the recesses not yet fully awakened from my good night’s rest. conveying the goodness of sunshine through the complexity of vascular highways, collecting the dregs and dross from the neuronal salt mines.
this has always been my primary reason for running; the neuroprotective whatfor in my elevated heart rate is the black caviar of my efforts. and now affixed, to run with my shadow self, partnering the purpose.
of late every day brings a stronger wind.
good timber does not grow with ease. the stronger the wind the stronger the trees.
home again after the run
many times in my life i have referenced ‘the wind is not my friend.’ prone to earachesas wind rushes past them, haired fuzzed and in-face issues, and the dread of its challenges on run days; particularly this.
recent heart lessons echoed this morning as i pulled on my running togs: if i am to be kind to myself, i must befriend the wind.
as i turned at the end of the laneway, into the stiffish breeze, the usual fight and resistance did not arise. instead, i understood that i must move into the wind, spread my long wings in a vulnerability, a welcoming embrace, in order to be lifted.
and so, for the first half of the run, i allowed myself to soar, running with, instead of against, this friend. new friend.
at the turn around point, the whoosh fell away from my ears. i became aware of the throaty calls of ravens, the vireos’ curious insistent question: ‘where are you?’ the trees, swaying and bouncing, rhythmically sighed the songs of wind instruments. the wind at my back, pushed me into a skitter along the arc of the earth and dropped me at the laneway with a pounding heart, alive with this new day.
this is your chance. this little, short human life that you have is your opportunity. don’t blow it . . . my teacher said that making friends with myself meant seeing everything inside me, and not running away or turning my back on it. because that’s what real friendship is. you don’t turn your back on yourself and abandon yourself, just the way you wouldn’t give up on a good friend when their darker sides began to show up
~ pema chodron
out the door noonish for a run on a beautiful day. much later than i prefer to run, but early morning today had other responsibilities.
a sun with enough heat that short sleeves were sufficient and a westerly wind with just enough ooomph in it to billow against a good-run mindset. scarce birdsong at this time of day and some light traffic. plenty of farming equipment rolling along the road and kicking up red dust in the fields that came in waves across my running path.
the first kilometre was that. wind and dust. a stomach a bit too heavy with morning food. a head full of the early morning stress, looping like an old reel to reel tape player. the first kilometre was that. a story line dragging me down, sitting tight across my shoulders and ratcheting rigid my jaw, labouring my breathing, congesting in my log-heavy legs. a misery i created. the first kilometre was that.
grateful was i to become aware. i did not need to bear this burden. these obstructions, of my own making. i could simply drop this weary load on the roadside. i could, in fact, allow a bit of self-compassion to well up. i could be kinder to myself. and so, i was.
my heartbeat and breath fell into a steady, comforting rhythm and the warmth of the sun touched my whole being. the earth lifted to meet the regularity of my foot fall.
the run. was so good.
i came home.
we can make ourselves miserable or we can make ourselves strong. the amount of effort is the same.
~ pema chodron
spring is slow in revealing its resplendence this year. just of late, buds have attached themselves to winter bare limbs and the hummingbird feeder remains unattended, though the table has been set.
i will call today my first run of the season, though i have ventured out two other times since our world became more insular. first run because it was more joyful than i anticipated, requiring less discipline to get there and get home again.
the sun played peak-a-boo in a cloud-dappled sky and even with a heavy frost in the early hours, the asphalt had loosened its grip on the winter chill and felt warm underfoot. birds were insistent in calling out their spring delight and the breeze, first against my left cheek as i headed out, then my right as i returned, was just right in its temerity.
signs of life, springing forth, among the detritus of winter and the pall of a novel corona virus.
it may be that when we no longer know what to do,
we have come to our real work
and when we no longer know which way to go,
we have begun our real journey.
in the spring, i went for a run and put up a wee post about it. as it happens, i have continued to not be a runner on a consistent basis since then.
this morning’s run was under grey skies, as seems to have been the mornings of late. it was also later than i prefer to run as i waited for both daylight and coffee to happen first.
crickets and cicadas provided the universal heartbeat backdrop to the run. starlings and
mourning doves hung like garlands in trees. the shoulder of the road was still littered with fallen trees, though power lines that had been broken and were hanging just a few mornings ago, all remnants of last weekend’s hurricane dorian, are now repaired, explaining the power outage yesterday.
i have been contemplating entering the pei marathon’s 10k event this year. i have done it twice before, once shod, once barefoot. i have even flirted with the idea of the half marathon. thankfully, my common sense and self care instincts kick in before i get further than a furtive wink with the 21 km demand.
i am not a distance runner, not being well suited to endurance events, except perhaps birthing labour.
years ago, when i first began training for a half marathon, i gradually added more kilometres to my week on a schedule slightly on the conservative side of most recommendations. weeks in, somewhere around the 13/14km mark, a wisdom deep inside my right hip flexor began to arise. i dropped back my weekly distance for a couple of weeks and then slowly began to increase it again. this inner wisdom was not to be denied.
i am not the sort to ‘work your way through that pain’ and, observing the ultimate outcome for those who do, i am grateful for the kindnesses, including abandoning the thoughts of half marathon training, i have offered my body as i age.
so, i continue to run. short distances which fill my senses and clear my heartmind. having nothing to prove to myself, these runs serve me well.
onward, then. headlamp and safety vest season is upon me.
learning to treat ourselves lovingly may at first feel like a dangerous experiment. sharon salzberg
i step sweet gingerly
on the carpet of wild strawberry blossoms
strewn alongside the driveway
mourning doves scatter as i advance
they lift and spiral outward upward
like the dance of dandelion seeds on the wind
i run awkward
the soles of my feet
have softened in the dewy grass
and have awakened
to the richness of the textures
that is the asphalt
i run solely
my ears fill with the succession of cars passing
and then
they empty of the roar
the kirtan of birdsong rises all around me
and settles venticularly
vibrating
i do not know if it is internal or external
i run blurry
the air sits heavy humid
DCIM100SPORT
immediately sticky on my skin
my fingers tingle with the coolness of early
the sweet scenty aura
of apple blossoms warms me
and slugs hieroglyph
messages of love I leap over
i run hearty
i unfurl my mat on the deck amidst intoxicants
of barely blossomed lilacs
with just out fragrances
bumbling bees
as they buzz the sound of the universe
morning practice
the asphalt warm as it caresses the underbelly of my foot
a gentle south breeze slowly watlzing the laundry on the line
mating and nesting songs being passed in a stand of trees
foliage escaping once tight buds.
running. receiving. rejoicing.
hold fast to the mother
at the end of the run
i am not a runner.
yet every spring, song birds beckon me outside, to be their audience as they are mine. it is the same universal energy which led teenage me to cut high school classes in april and, for a short while in my adult life, led me to believe that ‘spring cleaning’ was actually a thing.
i generally wait until the morning temperatures reach 7°C; the encumberances of cold weather running do not suit me well.
today it was 14°C when i got up. and humid. go time!
the asphalt under foot was warm and the shoulder of the road was spring time soft; so pleasant to run on. the warm breeze from the south, the sweat gathering along my hairline, the birdsong.
running with the mind of meditation.
yoga for cool down.
a great start to friday.
may we all be happy just the way we are.
beautiful butterycup
i overslept this morning. my intention was to take a 5 or 5:30am run. my body needed more sleep than running. mmmmm
when i got up at 6:45, i passed on the run, did some happy chores with the extra time and headed off to the gym to teach classes.
i came home from work a bit earlier than expected.
so, the run happened.
for someone who likes the quiet runs of the early mornings, the world is an entirely different run in the heat of the late morning sun.
as the breeze fell, waves of heat washed past me. it wasn’t long before my body began to develop a humid microclimate of its own.
the birds were subdued, brief soft calls from high branches. do they nap in the heat?
the asphalt offered a cool, but friendly, shoulder in the short stretches of dappled shade where overhead leaves sang rainstick songs. this in contrast to the warmth the road is holding in places exposed to our accumulating days of hot bright sunshine. a natural inspiration for in-floor heating?
blooms. everywhere! perhaps the sparseness of birdsong and the sun higher in the sky allowed my attention to rest on the corridor of wild, and not so wild, flowers along the route.
winking brown eyed susans overshadowed by the graceful noddings of queen anne’s lace, impossibly statuesque on spindly stalks. white clouds of yarrow snuggled into the yellow buzzy busy-ness of st. john’s wort. shy fleabane peeking out from under the protective umbrella leaves of hostas. the march of goatweed and tendrilling crown vetch, delightful butter & eggs, abundant clover, laughing lilies. daisies and buttercups and dandelions, oh my.
a wsw wind, the compassionate sister of the churlish outbound breeze, nudged me home as my lower lids gathered and released, with each blink, the salty sting of sweat. my mind free and my bare feet singing a rhythmic song of solitude.
i am thankful for the new perspectives of the run. everyday is another opportunity to soften and open. blooming goodness.
eyelids still thick from sleep
into the morning damp sunshine
a braying cow and sense surround birdsong welcome me
bare feet on snow plow scraped smooth asphalt
hands catching the coolness of the early day
my mind, skidding softly to a stop up against these sensations
