Ifthere is a consistent thread in my life, it is running. I do not run well, or fast. But my life moves to the rhythm of a four count beat, breathing-in two steps and out two steps, as I move through the miles and the years.
Today I am out for an early morning workout along the horse trails in Coto de Caza. As I move in the dark, all of existence fades into the half moon, the stars and the sounds of my footfalls and breath. And for a time, I am anything and everything. I rise up above the earth, flying, a picture of rhythmic perfection. I am a wild mustang galloping in the early morning mist of a high Montana plain. I am a lioness chasing sustenance for my pride. I am a winged Pegasus, soaring over a mythical landscape.
But the moment cannot last, and all too soon, my feet return to the earth and I am huffing up a hill in the canyon, my heart pounding, my breath coming in deep gasps. And now, a pink light reveals the trees and bushes, and day is not far behind. Dawn is beginning to peel away the blanket of stars, and soon my run will give way to another tedious and stressful day – one in a seemingly infinite series – and I will have to grapple with whatever comes.
But for now, in the half-light of the morning, my life moves to the rhythm of a four count beat, and I am one with all things.
(With apologies to N. MacLean)