Sherry planned on running for 1 1/2 hours; I was only going to run for about 30 minutes. Filled with more ambition than I had, she took off. I stayed in the car attemting to muster enough will and waiting in vain for a break in the storm. I knew I needed this run. I've been nearly sick by the thoughts plaguing me lately. A story on NPR was enough to push me over the edge that if I didn't go now, I might start breaking things.
I cranked Lupe Fiasco on my iPod and took off. Most of the paths at San Felaso wind though an old oak forest. But I chose to follow the two-track road through a grassy pasture. My brain already felt claustrophobic; I didn't need the trees closing in on my body too. Rain drops ran down my head, my face, shoulders, arms, legs. Before long I was soaked. Yet, it was a calming warm rain, a shower that washed away some of my tension.
I glanced at the pasture with low rolling hills. In the rain it seemed beautifully still. By the time I finished running, my shoes and socks were completely saturated. I removed them before walking back to the car. They only provided a foundation for blisters at that point. Puddles in the road were ankle deep and the soft soil massaged my feet. I reached the car and raised my hands in the rain like Andy Dufresne at the end of The Shawshank Redemption. My run was a small endeavor, but today, adjusting my mindset was a grand accomplishment.
