I ran thirteen miles Saturday morning (well, 13.2, but you know how I hate to brag). My big race is two weeks away, so running the full half-marathon length in advance seemed like a good idea, although sleeping in followed by a trip to Krispy Kreme sounded good, too. My final choices are often a teensy counter-intuitive.
So I had a lot of time to think. Admittedly, several thoughts were of the “uh-oh, am I getting a rash?” variety, while others centered on the theme of “and why not Krispy Kreme?” More often than not, however, I escaped to a sublime place and experienced ineffable thoughts.
• How do you describe witnessing the early morning dawn give way to a new day, revealing a curious mix of pastels and haze?
• How do you describe the irrepressible smile in your soul when you discern the distinct sound of the beach formed by crashing waves and squawking birds?
• How do you describe the spectacular variety of humanity that greet me on the path, reflecting in clothes and shoes and faces the bright and colorful explosion that is the world?
• How do you describe the runner’s sensation of settling into a pace and listening to your body talk in the clearest language?
• How do you describe the playfulness evident in all things, from the dolphins and surfers bobbing together in the open waters, to the hyperactive dogs and children frolicking in the surf?
• How do you describe running with the ocean waves up the Venice Pier and sensing in your heart, for the first time, how it feels to crash into the spongy shore?
• How do you describe the feeling of accomplishment at the end of the road where labored breathing fades into the quiet harmony of the new day and you consider that you have never felt so alive?
You don’t describe it. You experience it. And when you do, you do not forget, and cannot wait for more.
My to-do list is thankful for cars and the occasional airplane, but in my humble opinion, the world is best explored on foot.
Starting to Look Up 