Running Meditation

The early hours of dawn glisten with light. I mumble and grumble because as much as I am a morning person, I am still not fit for human contact.

My feet slip into my Asics like a cozy slipper, and I put my earbuds in and hit play.

I am ready for battle.

I set out down the quiet city blocks. Only the hardcore runners are out this early. A light breeze ripples my clothes and try to focus as I navigate the tricky blocks.

And then a half mile away I arrive where my true meditation begins. The light dances in my eyes as it dances in the river and a few miles out I can see my goal a beacon, connecting Bronx, Manhattan, and Queens.

Suddenly it isn’t a battle, the pounding of my heart isn’t constricted and my breath isn’t gasping. It has evened as I begin my journey.

Each step, I feel stronger. Each step I get more connected. It is the rhythm of a musician and my body is the instrument being strung as I run.

Slap, slap, slap, I go my body arcing gracefully, I feel like a gazelle, but probably look more like a rhinoceros and I don’t care. I am in the zone. The music guiding me. My breath calming the pounding of my heart. My mind in the here and now.

This moment where the fluctuations of my mind have stilled and I feel like I could go for hours. And I could if I don’t reach my goal.

I see cars zipping along the majestic structure and I touch the gate that tells me it is time to turn back and complete my journey.

The wind is a cooling force of nature at my back. Pushing me onwards toward my home. “Until next time,” it whispers. And I whisper back, “Tomorrow.”

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