Wednesday, Jan. 14, 2004 - 5:48 pm
Um... I'm sorry.
This relationship just isn't working for me.
I'm at www.dailypreciousness.org now. So change that bookmark.
The young schoolteacher runs down the trail. The morning landscape is hushed and crisp. Startled momentarily by a scampering rabbit, a surprised grin overtakes the runner’s face. Clean and cool, the runner has just begun his morning run.
The countryside view doesn’t wrap around him. It is a broad expansive plain. Flat and unadorned, but for the tangled twists of new crops, the view is of green fingers grasping for sun.
***
And the runner is me.
The turn rows blur past in time with the in-out-in-out of controlled breath and 4/4 time of my feet.
And I am out of myself. (That's why it's easy to write about it in third person.)
I am racing the man on horseback through the primeval forest. I am a prismatic all-seeing eye, piercingly focused on my finish line. I am the desert hawk gliding on rising thermals. I am racing and rollicking and ripping through the pages of expectation. I am racing home again. And I can’t help but recall that painful jog on September 11 a few years back.
