red-cheeked from the roused wind...

I went for a run today and I was determined to enjoy it. I am just coming out of three weeks of being sick (aka 3 weeks of minimal exercise), so to say the least, I am out of shape. Trying to get back into shape is one of the worst things in existence, I'm convinced. Nothing screams, "You suck!" like the first workout after a hiatus. So since I knew I would be pissed at myself for not being able to run as far as I felt like I should, I decided to allow myself to intermittently walk and run. At least this time.

Now that the pressure of achieving a personal running record on this chilly January afternoon was off, I was free to take everything in. Free to enjoy this absolutely PERFECT running day! The people, sights, sounds, feelings, smells were mine to experience. So I did.

I stopped to help my neighbor throw away her Christmas tree. Her name is Becky and she seems really nice. I'm glad I got to meet her. I smiled at the blue sky and its uninhibited brightness. I listened to the rhythmic step, step, step of my tennis shoes on the pavement and thought about how in 50 years I would do anything to be able to hear that sound again. I heard the arhythmic breaths from my own mouth as my asthma induced lungs battled against the cold winter air. I felt each breath on my lips as the air passed through them, feeling numb and fresh. I took joy in each stride as I felt my legs kick up behind me, rejoicing in youth. "Someday I won't be able to do this," I thought. "I want to enjoy it while I can."

O Lord, so many questions. Who am I, and who are You? What boxes are formed by Truth, and which have I created myself, or had created for me? What comfort is brought by Wisdom and Truth, and what is present due to my fear to explore these things?

"Wherever else I live- in music, in words, in the fires of the heart, I abide just as deeply in this nameless, indivisible place, this world, which is falling apart now, which is white and wild,

which is faithful beyond all our expressions of faith, our deepest prayers. Don't worry, sooner or later I'll be home. Red-cheeked from the roused wind,

I'll stand in the doorway, stamping my boots and slapping my hands, my shoulders covered with stars."

-Mary Oliver