The early dawn threw pearly lights onto the scattered clouds, like buddha eyes scanning over the world. It was a perfect temperature; just enough chill to cut the warmth coming on from the sun, giving me lift in my step as I got into rhythm, heading north on Park. I crave the motion and solitude, and the chance to sort and settle my thoughts out from the cacophony of needs, demands, expectations, losses, hopes, fears....
If Buddha Ran he would be thought-less. As I rounded out on Emerald Hills and began to pick up a good pace, I felt that old feeling of weightlessness. As if I could go just a little faster, and leave the ground in a whirl. Would He fly as well? Would his pristine calm and containment leave any impression in his wake, or would the molecules fling themselves in timeless directions, covering the earth in possibilities? I wondered about marathoning this year. Can I ramp up enough in my training to make it to another big race? There is so much on my plate. But I need the run to make it real, to feel the pain, the exhilaration, the exhaustion. I need the physical push of my limits to let me know the breath is still full in my chest, so that when tears come, they can flow like water on the steps i leave behind.
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