From Time to Time

06/29/2008 11:14 AM – 11:34 AM

I don’t know that I have any particular thing that I’m writing about. That’s the nice thing about a long, tiring run – it wipes the slate clean for a little while. I did 5.4 miles this morning in 58 minutes. I’m approaching my “mid-week” goal time. 1 hour, three times a week. 1 and a half hours, once a week.

Eventually, I’ll add lifting to the weekly schedule. Sometime, not smoking. Maybe, maybe someday, I’ll add a healthy diet. But that is not the here today. Today is this Sunday. I’ll have to figure out what to do today. Maybe figure out more moving stuff. Maybe I’ll write. Maybe I’ll read, drink beer and take a nap. It isn’t time yet to decide. And the weight of my body is pleasant and the breeze through my widow is pleasant. It is good to be here, even if it isn’t a house in the woods. This is itself and it will change eventually.

Even my hands are tired. My fingers have little tightnesses to them that are not unpleasant. Tomorrow, I’ll go to work. In about a month, I’ll move. Somewhere, across the trees and fields and cities and roads, there is a sea. I’ll sit by it someday. Somewhere, beneath a tall tree in the middle of a forest, there is a patch of damp, mossy earth. Someday, I’ll sit on it. There is a red mesa in a dry and dusty desert. Someday, I’ll climb it. There is a pool in a river, dark and deep and still, hidden by the hills. Someday, I’ll swim in it. There is a heat, thick with water and void of breeze. Someday, I will lie still within it, feeling my breath pass hot through my lips and nose. There is this, the heavy and slow and good of being. Just being. And there is wisdom in stopping for it, from time to time.