I’ve been a casual runner for a long time, and I love how accessible this form of exercise is—you just lace up your shoes and go. There’s a whole world out there you can run in! But over the last couple of years, I started to find that my body, particularly my knees, didn’t love my pounding the pavement. And over the past few months, I’d stopped running at all.
But a couple of days ago I felt the urge to run. To get outdoors, in the fresh air, and stretch my legs and expand my lungs. It went pretty well, and considering the state of things these days, some aches and pains the following day felt like a small price to pay.
So this evening I went running again. There was still some snow left from last night’s storm, but the sidewalks and roads were mostly clear. It felt good to be out, moving through the cool air. When I got to my turn-around point, which tonight was the crest of a bridge over a tidal creek, I looked over my shoulder at the fading yellow and orange in the western sky. Higher above, the sky was that iridescent blue/purple that comes at dusk, with Venus shining brightly as she does. And the thought came, unbidden, “It’s still a beautiful world.”
Photo by Grant McIver on Unsplash
Receiving that message, my heart ached with gratitude for this beautiful world, and the beautiful creatures which inhabit it. And it ached with the joy of being alive, sharpened by the awareness of these days that life is so fleeting and fragile.
I turned toward home, pounding the pavement, breathing in and out, grateful for it all.