Every time I run I unlock new secrets of this fine art. In the middle of post-vacation post-backtowork fatigue, I took off midday and into the buffeting winds of Ida. Her cloud cover was never far from the sun, and gave me lots of respite from any real heat. The air felt fantastic; running into the winds is high exercise, and I relished the rhythm I got up from having to dig and dig consistently to move forward. Felt good.
I am alone in my head. The beauty of it is the solitude. We are a people not in touch with our own Selves. Distraction of every kind suck us into vortexes of compulsive purpose. So what's so unusual about seeking oneself? I take the first few steps with gleeful joy...I know that soon the trance will be upon me and any thought in my head is permitted and heard above the clip of my gait. I love that presence in my mind of endless storyboards...hoards of ideas, riots of ramifications, associations, imaginations. The movement sets me free. My meditation moves into the 3 dimensional world by stealth. I take the moment and add it with the train of my route, from back to top, up and down, around the streets I run.
I honor the power of my body, which I never knew I had. Sustaining itself just at the level of discomforts, with enough strength to feel the bones in my feet, the muscles of my calves, the pendulum swing of my arms arcing through the air.
The gods run after goddesses who hunt deep in forests alive with life. We are a running people, we join together, or separate as paths project themselves into our lives, leading us on down the road.
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