Runner's Rhetoric
I had a great run this AM... For some mad reason I woke up at 4:15 AM and decided to get up instead of luxuriate, or go back to sleep, which I love to do. I checked email, had my devotion, and then decided to do my run although it was well before dawn.
When I first started running years ago, I thought I could build a habit of getting up and running at six. It hasn't happened that way; more often my run occurs at 7:30 or 8. But I did love seeing the stars while trying to build that habit, most especially the Pleiades. Some call this happy little cluster The Seven Sisters, but to me they are simply star-laughter. They just look as if they are merrily chuckling up there; they are never sad, and they always lift my spirits. Today as I got started, Orion floated majestically nearby, and Scorpio and the Big Dipper winked to the north.
My run is actually sort of a fast, smooth trot. At night everything takes on a surreal quality-- it's almost as if my body is sort of floating along invisibly (I do wear reflectors in darkness) and only my senses exist. One becomes far less aware of distances; only sights, smells, sounds and the wind exist. It's almost like a silent flight just above the ground. As I glided past a reservoir, I looked off to the north just in time to see a meteor fireball falling to earth. The geese were barely silhouetted on the surface of the pond; I could hear vague, sleepy honks as I slid past, barely making noise with my feet.
On my way back I watched the sky take on a rose-purple hue as the sun began to waken, the stars still bright near the horizon. By the time I got home, half the sky was more day than night, yet still stars out, looking like diamonds in a silver necklace rather than loose stones on blue velvet. And now the trees in the west are silhouetted in the dawn sky, and day has properly begun.
Thanks, Lord, for Your quiet presence with me this day.
When I first started running years ago, I thought I could build a habit of getting up and running at six. It hasn't happened that way; more often my run occurs at 7:30 or 8. But I did love seeing the stars while trying to build that habit, most especially the Pleiades. Some call this happy little cluster The Seven Sisters, but to me they are simply star-laughter. They just look as if they are merrily chuckling up there; they are never sad, and they always lift my spirits. Today as I got started, Orion floated majestically nearby, and Scorpio and the Big Dipper winked to the north.
My run is actually sort of a fast, smooth trot. At night everything takes on a surreal quality-- it's almost as if my body is sort of floating along invisibly (I do wear reflectors in darkness) and only my senses exist. One becomes far less aware of distances; only sights, smells, sounds and the wind exist. It's almost like a silent flight just above the ground. As I glided past a reservoir, I looked off to the north just in time to see a meteor fireball falling to earth. The geese were barely silhouetted on the surface of the pond; I could hear vague, sleepy honks as I slid past, barely making noise with my feet.
On my way back I watched the sky take on a rose-purple hue as the sun began to waken, the stars still bright near the horizon. By the time I got home, half the sky was more day than night, yet still stars out, looking like diamonds in a silver necklace rather than loose stones on blue velvet. And now the trees in the west are silhouetted in the dawn sky, and day has properly begun.
Thanks, Lord, for Your quiet presence with me this day.
posted by craigellachie at 7:17 AM
2 Comments:
that is beautful, Eleanor. I love the early morning, too.
and I'm glad you're running. Last I heard, your back was giving you too much grief.
Well...I'm not actually running, I'm racewalking, but I'm working up the same sweat and going very nearly as fast. It looks alot like running, except you always keep one foot on the ground. Keeps the jolting down.
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