Tonight I went out for an easy run. A few miles to loosen up after a weekend of good runs and tough snowshoeing. It's a typical mid-winter Tuesday evening and it felt like as I ran.
Car heading home on an evening commute. The empty trees and brown grass of mid February. A sky partially filled with clouds, a light breeze. A normal light from the sun drifting off for the night. Leftover snow still on some sidewalks and trails. Nothing special about any of it.
Even my body felt that way. I could feel a few sore spots, tendons in my knees, my left hip with a bit of an ache. My breathe felt easy and smooth. My stride and pace good, but nothing to write home about. A peace inside me that felt nice.
It was all simple, normal.
Still within that it was extraordinary. To be able to run and to be running. To wonder at the world and its existance. To know the freshness of the air. The beauty of a tree or blade of grass resting and waiting for the soon-to-arrive spring. No rush to get anywhere to accomplish anything. Just a time to be outside, to be still, to finish a day.
Simple and extraordinary - or just simply extraordinary. Either way it felt like two sides of the same thing.
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