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DCIM100SPORTi 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

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

practice3i 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

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for_peace

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

 

runhome

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

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.

flowery run 024so, 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?

flowery run 018blooms. 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.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

june 29, 2014 runeyelids 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

 

 

 

5k 010

 

the shimmer of trails left by snails, glinting patterns drawing my eyes

the soft essss curve of a wee garder snake in permanent repose

5k 019regal, stalwart queen anne’s lace sharing the ditches with clouds of modest brown-eyed susans

a gauntlet of pine forests, overfull with the kirtan of morning birds

breezes riffling leaves

the steady fall of my feet on asphalt, still embracing some of yesterday’s heat, softly yielding beneath my soles

a warm sun climbing a morning sky

every reason for joy held in the freshness of the day

andrea 004

 

a sweet morning run in the chilly aftermath of andrea.

winds gusty from the north. greybluepewter clouds hanging just out of reach.

damp, mist-laden air. moisture gathered on my arms and face, traveling with long, juiced-up red worms.

thumbs numb and my soles soften on the wet asphalt. my toes chill through.

birdsong, ever optimistic, fills the air, calling down the sun. chirpy hearthappy trilling.

spring growth on pine trees, dressed in new greens, awkwardly erect.

andrea 010no air to breathe in the lane but the heavenly scent of nearspent lilacs.

drizzled brown, they are beautiful in their surrender to another of many successful successive bloomings.

and i shake off the chill with my hands alternating between keyboard and a tall warm ceramic mug of bulletproof coffee.

 

march 29, 2013 run

march 29, 2013 run

i’ve been itching to spread my toes in an outdoor run. today, a rare day off, the sun was shining and enticing and my elbow was rubber.

i did not head out early. i needed the sunshine to take the sharp edge of chill off the asphalt and i hoped for the temperature to climb a couple of degrees.

at noon time, with a temperature of 0℃ and a pair of thermals covering my happy backside, i headed out.

the driveway was amazing underfoot. the cold, smooth mud of early spring, framed by squishy wet moss borders and dotted by ice-skimmed puddles, inspired me instantly.

 

there was a gusty nnw wind, on my right on the way out. a bit biting when the road was opened to not yet awakened farm fields. nipping the bits of my earlobe that pushed out of my cap. the asphalt, though, was warmed by the sun, dry and happy to be tickled by my toes. when the trees gathered along the shoulder, they cast patterns of chilly shadows to entertain me.

the run was short, sweet and satisfying. i was able to practice the chirunning form, focusing today mainly on my pesky shoulders which know not how to properly relax and allow my arms to be along just for the ride. adding the chirunning to the concepts of running with the mind of meditation made for a wonderful running experience.

so many blessings. such a good friday.

 

 

 

 

photo: wichitaksdailyphoto.blogspot.com

Wpg Tribune Barefoot

Click the link (above) for a lovely story about barefooting from the archives of the Winnipeg Tribune.  Published July 12, 1939.

queen anne's lace happy to just be

I went out for a run this morning. By 7:ooam the sun was already high on the horizon and was given chase by a bank of clouds which, for most of my run, kept the sun hidden. The moon, still fullish, was translucent and high in the western sky.  It beckoned me on my out run.

I had trouble staying in my body and out of my head this morning. The  times when the thoughts float easily away, and I sift into the vastness, aware of being the wind, the birdsong, the rays of sunlight; those runs are sublime. And then there are runs like today’s, when I just can’t get out of my own way. I fall into thinking about something, generally planning my day or my week, and being so immersed in the future I fail to notice the  now. The sensations of the moment are lost to me: the soles of my feet landing softly on worn asphalt, the gentle trills of chickadees, the trickle of sweat that collects slowly in the edge of my hairline and, having gathered sufficient importance, runs along the edge of my face. The breeze once causing my eyes to tear slightly as I ran into it now ruffling the fine hairs on my forearms, my breath matching my stride matching the pulse of the universe.

The peace and wisdom that come of emptiness were not to be today. Mindfulness remained elusive and I, stuck in my ego, struggled to complete the run.

Eventually I came to my senses, abandoned the effort, slowed to a walk and enjoyed the blossoms along the roadside.

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