Meditations from a warm, spring run
For more than four hours today I got to be a runner.
Over a bridge.
Through a tunnel.
When I was a runner I couldn’t be anything else. Those emails had to wait. Those stresses dogging me all week would be there for later. I was busy because, in those moments, I was just running.
I was just being. And it was beautiful.
The tree canopy hung a thick, warm blanket of air over me as I entered Palisades Interstate Park, some eight miles into the run.
Sometime during those steps across dirt trails, down stone steps and to rock overlooks, I felt at home. The trails had welcomed me.
“He wondered whether home was a thing that happened to a place after a while, or if it was something that you found, in the end, if you simply walked and waiting and willed it long enough.” — Neil Gaiman in “American Gods.”
I plopped down on a rock, dangling my feet above the Hudson River. It felt good to rest, 15 miles of tired already accumulated on my legs.
A Canada goose waded over to keep me company as I sucked down water in big gulps and tried to take my time to enjoy a Clif Bar.
Our conversation was mostly small talk.
He paddled away.
And I ran home.
Total Distance: 26.5 mi. | Elevation Gain: 3,379 ft.
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