On Walking and Running

I love my morning walks. After the push of getting everyone out the door way too early for everyone's liking, making sure lunch is packed, homework is ready, breakfast is consumed, clothes are put on, kitties are fed and medicated, all culminating in catching the bus and waving them off to school. Then I take a deep breath, turn on my ipod and head for the park that is a short block away. It is my time to reset and recharge for the day. Sometimes I work my Nia routines, sometimes I daydream, sometimes I run countless lists through my head and sometimes I cry.

With Rebecca in early morning math this year, even with car-pooling, I find that I have been missing my morning walks more often than not. I have missed the rhythm of the seasons turning as last year I was walking through snow and rain until spring came. I have missed seeing the same walkers who are out early, usually walking their dogs, where we nod and smile, knowing that we are the few who venture out in the rain. Most everyone else will stay away.

Today, I finally was able to walk without the pressure of appointments cutting my time short and I noticed how spring was blooming quickly in the sweet green of new leaves and tiny soft colored flowers. Even the moss and streaks of mud upon the grass where the water has receded from the recent rains seem to call in the wet, fresh and ever unpredictable weather of spring.  And with spring, also comes the runners, joining the walkers and the dog walkers in our morning routine. 

I remember running. As a small child, it was so easy. I didn't think about it. I just ran. For fun, part of the chase, part of getting where I wanted to go and when I was tired, I would just stop and catch my breath. It was so easy. There was no thinking involved, no counting of calories, no goals in mind except to tag the other child and transfer the 'itness' that was part of the game. It was only later when running became a measurement of time and distance that I began to think about running. It was then, that I discovered, I didn't particularly like running even though it was still relatively easy. I liked the feeling of accomplishment afterwards but the act of running, the love of running for the sake of it has eluded me. The adrenaline rush was never as satisfying as a hike up the mountain or the peace that comes when I would empty my mind or the little details I would notice in the world around me, things I would miss by rushing past. Still, I never thought about running with the words 'I can't'.

Today, running seems so far away. Not just the idea of running for time and distance, for calorie counting and exercise, but the kind of running that takes you across an open field that seems to go on forever. The kind of running filled with joy and laughter, just because you can. The kind of heart racing that feels good instead of work. Still, I remember it with a kind of wistful sadness of something important that was lost and I'm not quite sure when it happened. Maybe it is time for me to rediscover my own way of running, or maybe it is not the running that I miss but the sense of play, pure joyful play.