Why do I run? Some days I run to remember.
Do you know what I mean?
Those glimpses of clarity, moments stored away,
Hidden as they often are in the mundanity of everyday living.
Minutes swirl by each day:
Looking for keys, packing lunches, homework, what I ate for breakfast yesterday,
Or was it Tuesday? Life goes full speed, and the seconds blend into hours, days and months.
Life is good. But busy.
Out on the trail, time slows (especially when there’s pain)
But the focus on each footstep satiates my soul.
Dark branches against sky, the white foam and dark, clear water by Company Mill,
A story shared with a friend, the drum of woodpeckers and crunch of fresh-fallen leaves,
Even the sharp ankle turn that blurs my vision momentarily—all give me crystalline focus.
I savor these snapshots, and store them away for the hectic days ahead.
When the days are long, every hour is filled, and I can’t see the sky,
I steal a few seconds to visit these moments in time.
In my mind’s eye I can see the white boles of sycamore trees, standing along the creek that bears their name.
It’s this temporary departure from the clutter of life–good clutter, and necessary–but easy to get lost in.
I savor these moments now for those busy days ahead,
So I can return to when I’m out on the trail, miles passing
One step at a time beneath my feet.