I am a minimalist when it comes to running. [Please note, I said running, not writing.]
Not the actual running part, but just the "gear" that is brought along with me. Apart from my trusty sneakers, old teeshirts, &swishy shorts, I am a lean, mean...uhhh, well, you know the rest. Sometimes my wrist carries a watch, but as of late, it has not. Summer evenings are good for jogs with no deadlines, nothing to race home to, &only the slowly sinking skyline to remind you that dinner should be ready soon. &ever since I made the jump to no ipod, my runs have become more feather-finding, less oblivious to dirt packed under my soles. I scrawled a page in my journal one morning, after a particularly freeing frollick through the hills of Santa Barbara, &it was simply this:
running brings joy.
that`s it. because on that day, those few hours spent exploring&thinking&praying&singing&living, my heart beat not blood, but joy through my veins.
I have tried many a time to mimick that run, &all the things that came along with it, but of course, joy runs come when least expected. Today was a day like any other. I awoke &attended church &did other sunday things, &then, like those old Nike commercials, I "just did it." I laced up my grey nb`s with my special socks from dad, &I was off! [not streaking, mind you, I just didnot mention the rest of my clothing...] It was hot today, &I have a talent for sweating in even mid seventies weather. &I don`t mean the cute "glisten" type sweat; I mean soaking wet sweat. Now you know. On my way past the Presbyterian Church, I spied a feather, &I knew that it was a joy-run-sort-of-day.
&my heart has been indecisive, &unsettled &restless these "passing sunrises &sunsets," but today,
today was a day like no other.
Hallelujah, Jesus.
