Thwap. Thwap. Thwap. Rubber soles meeting asphalt on a quiet morning run. The rain has subsided for a moment and a cool, light breeze occasionally blows pleasing my sweaty face as I lift it to fill my lungs with another long breath of crisp, earthy Oregon air. Thwap. Thwap. My soles grind then displace a few of the small pebbles below my pounding feet. Breathe. There, around the back of that tree, a robin watches me go by unaltered in its quest for whatever lurks near the trunk of the stoic oak he quietly hides behind. Birds move in such quick, jerky motion and with purpose but cautious nevertheless. I, however, thwap, thwap, thwap. Slow, steady, and strive to reach the state of consciousness where I am purely thoughtful and less aware of the legs attached to my body. The soreness in my knees, the oddness of my gait, the weight upon my feet, the quickness of my breath. I’m almost there, rising to meet nature on a meaningful level of awareness. Feeling better, like all of the old air is flushed out and the new brought in. Smells like the forest, of dirt and pine needles. Everything is bright even though it is overcast. More spright sparrows searching for worms watching me from afar.
I look down at my companion, Maggie. The jingle of her collar reminds me of her presence. No complaints, steady jog, happy dog. Thwap. Thwap. Thwap. I listen carefully now to birds chirping and even hear a rooster crow over the streaming bluegrass music turned low, spilling into my psyche from minuscule speakers plugged into the bend of my ear canals
. It's a perfect combination: banjo, guitar, mandolin, and...breathe in. I take in another mouthful of tasty, moist air. I turn my head in all directions for a full view of the valley I live in. Lush. Vibrant green, endless fields of fertile soil absorbing the misty rain and reaching, reaching for any light available.
A breeze blows, curling the leafy crops in one direction, then the other. I can hear the wind travel from a distance, over the grassy fields, then meet my structure, and continue beyond. I hear a car in the distance behind me, approaching fast. We guide ourselves into the muddy shoulder, enjoying the added cushioning provided by the saturated ground, a relief from the unforgiving road that throws all of our force immediately back at us. Misty rain begins to fall, the droplets hold on to my face, my sunglasses for a moment, then drip to rest on the gravel below. They provide the ideal relief for my salty, glowing skin. A natural cleansing.
Thwap. Thwap. Thwap. Now beginning a hill. Focus, push through. Keep breathing. I thrust open my chest, pull my shoulders back and lift my head then visualize filling my lungs. Don’t stop. Make it to the top, slow your pace. Think beyond, find a thought to take me to the end. Jingle. Jingle. How's Maggie? I glance, following the red leash from where it loosely sits in my hand down to the white, shaggy Westie dashing across the ground. She is keeping up. Clearly, she is tired but determined to continue despite the weight of her twelve-pound frame burdening her four short legs and tiny paws. I need her tenacity to push me onward. Her tongue is out, she looks at me with no emotion now, just focused. Click, click, click, click her bare feet scrape the pavement. Off in the distance across the field, I hear the "moo" of a lonely cow.
Finally, we’ve made it past the crest and I slow down. Time to breathe. Time for Maggie to breathe. Our walk morphed into a run we both embraced. Here comes the sun, hazy behind a light grey cloud. The blood is rushing throughout my body in a happy dance of renewal. I feel exhilarated. We walk now, more like prance, to cool down. Ah, Maggie spots a grey squirrel. She pulls the leash taut then whines as she follows the busy-tailed creature's every move. It scampers up a tree, then across a telephone wire. We both watch intently as it maneuvers itself with its fate in flux. Maggie retreats, not defeated but realizes the grey squirrel is out of her reach and brings her attention back to the sidewalk. The squirrel waits until we've
passed underneath, then continues on its narrow path across the street.
Suddenly, the red trim of the house appears on the horizon. I smile. Maggie's step quickens. Comfort comes to mind. Dry, warmth, drinking water. The rain has subsided and someone nearby just started their mower. Another deep breath before I open the gate and release Maggie to find her bed inside and relax. This spring day in a quiet country town, alive with nature, bursting with color and new life has now officially begun.
Thwap. Thwap. Thwap. Rubber soles meeting asphalt on a quiet morning run. The rain has subsided for a moment and a cool, light breeze occasionally blows pleasing my sweaty face as I lift it to fill my lungs with another long breath of crisp, earthy Oregon air. Thwap. Thwap. My soles grind then displace a few of the small pebbles below my pounding feet. Breathe. There, around the back of that tree, a robin watches me go by unaltered in its quest for whatever lurks near the trunk of the stoic oak he quietly hides behind. Birds move in such quick, jerky motion and with purpose but cautious nevertheless. I, however, thwap, thwap, thwap. Slow, steady, and strive to reach the state of consciousness where I am purely thoughtful and less aware of the legs attached to my body. The soreness in my knees, the oddness of my gait, the weight upon my feet, the quickness of my breath. I’m almost there, rising to meet nature on a meaningful level of awareness. Feeling better, like all of the old air is flushed out and the new brought in. Smells like the forest, of dirt and pine needles. Everything is bright even though it is overcast. More spright sparrows searching for worms watching me from afar.
No comments:
Post a Comment