I wasn’t in the mood for a run today. πββοΈ
I wanted to curl up with a book, a cup of coffee and not get out of bed at all.
Yet, I did run.
Because there were birds π¦ calling out to me. A warm summery morning inviting me. π³Trees beckoning. Grass winking.
So, I ran.
A shorter run. An easy run mixed with some intervals at marathon pace.
Dogs π scrambled, wagged, barked, and snarled. A group of runners from a runner’s group ran in single file in identical red t-shirts.
A priest swept a lonely flame over an idol, mantras resonating even through my headphones.
The road was baked already in the heat. But the trees? Ah! They stood tall, loving the heat, green in their splendor, and wise in their strength.
I run my hands over one tree, taking in its wisdom. For a while, I stand, hugging the tree, and something in me eases, a comfort making its way through.
I sip beetroot juice from Mr. Khan. Who? He first made an appearance here.
“Shall I add some more bitters?” he asks.
“Why not?”
Because isn’t this our life? To take the bitter and carve sunlight sweetness?
I wish you a Sunday where you can hug a tree, laugh with a dog, and sip lots of healthy juices.In pictures: A path to nowhere. A tree to hug. Beetroot juice, freshly pink. And yours truly, enjoying a slant of light after her run.