As I turned a corner on Saturday, running along a country road, I put my hand out unconsciously to run fingers through the waist high grass at the roadside. The seed pods rustled and flowed through my fingers, tickling my palms, undulating like water as I passed them.
I turned off my music to listen to the breeze shift through the beech trees further back in a field, watching the dappled summer green dance in the early summer morning light.
I hadn’t even realized I had stuck my hand out into the grass until I looked down at the tips poking through my fingers, and the sensation made me smile and keep it there, surfing the tops, an old habit from childhood, recovered from some un-accessed corner of my memories.
Suddenly the humidity, the leg pain, the lack-of-sleep discomfort, and shortness of breath all went away. I felt the sun, tasted the fresh air, and took comfort in the quietness of where I was, right then.
I felt my body shed tension like a shaggy dog emerging from water, shaking the vestiges of city dust and noise away like water droplets.
My run was hard. The comfort of where the run happened was easy.
I must remember that when running starts to be less joyful, I need to drag my *$% out to the country, pick a road, and run. Out there, I’ll find it again.
It works. ♥