I woke up in a grumbly mood. As usual, upon waking, I prepared for a run. I knew in my head where I wanted to run - up...up on trails...up on long trails. But it took a lot of effort for my head to first convince my body to go out the door and, secondly, to convince my feet to keep heading west. Two miles into the run, the rhythm of the run began to encompass me. Three miles into the run, the cacophony of the city began to fade. Four miles into the run, it was just me and the trail... burnt-red leaves of scrub oak, the occasional twitter of a bird, sporadic breezes cooling my face, and a bright blue sky overhead. This running, this running to quiet spots...quiet spots out of doors with sky as roof and trees, pine needles, streams and boulders as pathways...this is how I stay right with the world.
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