Ready to Run

Once again I am waiting to tighten my tennis shoes and slap the concrete in search of the burning joy I find inside myself when I run. The day is windy, and it cools my warm face. There is still some snow on the ground, but mostly, the brown grasses are showing through. Everything looks a little empty, like I always think it does at this time of year. Not quite the end of winter, yet not the beginning of spring. And there is a peace in this time. And patience. Here comes sun and rushing river waters, happy to be in motion after the ice thaws, just like I am. Soon leaves on the trees will liven up our days, and green grasses and vibrant skies with bring a sense of life.

As I circle the Tom O'Leary golf course I am imagining it as it was last spring, with green grass and tall trees, and people. I am waiting for this time, silently at my window, never leaving it, as my body senses the changes of winter to summer, and soon my eyes will begin to see birds flying in from the south, and notice how they cock their heads towards me.

I am doing good until I turn the corner and can see the last stretch ahead of me. I almost stop. But there is a voice inside me screaming, "Go, go, go," and so I trudge along, waiting until I am close enough to pump out the last bit of strength resting inside myself. All to soon my legs force themselves to fly, "here we go, heading forwards, heading up," they chant. And I feel like I am on top of the world, watching myself speed towards the stoplight at the end of the street. There I take two steps back and sit on the cold ground, burrying my head between my knees, praying, thanking God for that last bit of step he put into my run, the last push he gave me as stepped into the cement sqaure that was my finish. I thanked him that I could run. I wished for spring.

As I silently walk home, I am ready to run, and ready for the showcase of life spring brings. The entrance to summer. Here it comes, barely making it around the last corner, the last stretch. It is finally running towards us.