After a slow start, and a slow run up the hill, the body said, Alright, enough nonsense, let’s go. And so off we ran, pushing beyond the comfortable limit of breath, and then beyond again and again, finding exhilaration at each new level, never once needing to open the mouth. See? You thought you had forgotten.
Forty-seven degrees. Stars and clouds. The cool, rainy weather continues.
I’ve been wearing them long enough to know that for running, I definitely prefer the seven-millimeter sandals. The nine-millimeter pair is nice for hiking. They feel plush, almost extravagant, in comparison. But they have served well on trail and in stream, caked with debris and mud and then drenched in melted snow. They clean up well and dry quickly, too, which is good, because I also wear them around town.
None of this is important — isn’t that beautiful? It’s just another turn in the dance. I see you looking over your shoulder from the other side of the room; the room is the sky, the distance a galaxy or two. Time is in the oven, and will never be done. Hello, love. Your little boy’s home.
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Categories: Sweet Sleep and Bare Feet