Last night it rained some, which softened the local dirt trails to the consistency of “just right”. I headed out this morning with a big grin on my face, wearing shorts and short sleeves, and NO MITTENS. The trails through my urban woods smelled spicy, musky, earthy and sweet. I love that smell.
I ran up and up, out of my neighbourhood, into the next and then over the bridge to one more. The slogs uphill were worth it, as I careened joyfully dowowown to my turnaround point before heading back, up and down, to home.
I grinned as I met several deliriously happy off-leash dogs along the way, their tongues lolling wetly to one side or the other.
In the last, mostly flat, un-park-like kilometer, I struggled to keep the joyful feelings going, but wasn’t used to so much sunshine and kept finding myself walking.
Just run over there, I’d say to myself, setting my sights on a wee knoll ahead. Didn’t wanna. Okay, then, just run Here. That worked. I ran a few steps right here. And then I ran here and here and here again, and before I knew it, I was beyond my original There.
So there’s my lesson for today:
Don’t run There.
Just run Here. and Here. and Here again.
There will come soon enough.