A Good Morning

Dan had the day off today (thanks for the excuse Christopher Columbus!) so instead of hauling kids twenty minutes in the car and telling horribly corny, creatively parched Super Patterson stories all the way to the YMCA, I just put on my running shoes this morning and popped out my own front door.  It was glorious.

It was one of those miracle days where the weather is just the right kind of cool and the body in its thirties is absent of twangy aches.  My phone reported to me, after five minutes of running, that I was going a good zoom faster than usual and I felt a little on the glorious side about it.  So I pushed myself, and pushed and pushed as I ran past my fields of corn all brown and cut off at the ankles, past my annoying, old, golden retriever that barks me up and down his fence every time I go by, past my yellowing, knee-high fields of soy harboring who knows how many turtles marching tediously and determinedly toward nowhere which always seems to lie just across across the perilous street, and past my little old houses that have wrinkled folks with interesting faces in them that I sometimes see and wish I had the guts to ask their mouths to tell me stories.

Morning runs like that make me feel invigorated, strong, capable, hopeful, unconquerable and like hugging the world in it's entirety.

Then I get home and it's time to empty the dishwasher and load the washing machine.  But I'll be darned if that run wasn't nice.