a river runs through it

In an effort to make the most of my time which is decidedly unoccupied by employment, I decided to go for a run today. If you are not already aware of how strange this is, you will also likely not realize how remarkable it is for me to run a mile. (consecutively. I usually tally up a mile of running on such sessions, but cumulatively…in the walk-run-walk-run fashion.)

At first I was just trotting down the road, keeping my pace as best I could, contemplating whether I was a heel-striker or midfoot striker, enjoying the sun. Then I started to contemplate maybe I should just run the whole mile of my two mile round-trip route. And I spent probably the second half-mile contemplating who I could tag on facebook, bragging of my feat (because for me, it is a feat). That motivation was enough to get me through the mile. And I probably could have run farther, but the thing that always gets me when it comes to running is I just don’t want to keep going. By the time I turned around and started walking back though, I was thinking how silly it would sound to go boasting on facebook (and not only my own page, but that of others if I, as I was thinking to do, tagged Zach and Kelsey and Cherylyn and Jeff and Danielle and Myles).

As I was walking back (I thought of running a little more, but I was enjoying my contemplations too much), I heard the gravel crunching beneath my shoes, the river (not yet at spring’s highs), birds chirping and rustling in the brush. A couple cars passed, two of the drivers waved although I didn’t know them. I think life actually is more laid back on this side of the mountains.

A couple orchard workers were pruning apple trees up the hill, and I laughed to myself that the sound of chainsaws fondly reminds me of childhood.

Honesty compels me to admit that I find the green side of the Evergreen State more picturesque (rain does have its benefits). But this is the land from which I was grown. It calms and inspires me. I think Allison, Kelsey, Jeff, Caley, and hometown friends understand me better for having been here.

Rather than blocks upon blocks of houses I “run” past in Seattle, I can count on two hands the houses I pass between the mile markers.

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