Sometimes when I run I follow all the protocol, that is when I do my hill work, my fartleks, my tempo and my speed work. I work on my form, my foot strike, my cadence. Have a got it right. My mind envisions that next race, that perfect ending, crossing the finish line and that awesome time. In my mind I am nothing more than a star, an elite, always reaching higher, never stopping. I surround myself in all that glory.
Truth is I am a middle-aged recreational runner, who just really loves to run. Not fast, not slow. Just determined, and having fun. For when I run fast or slow the trouble of the world leaves me. My troubles leave me. My world is in order and I can make sense of it. Nothing disturbs my stillness. Just the road and I, left, right, left, right. Nature and I. When I am at a race and I cross that finish line I can be in the middle of the pack or two thirds down the line the feeling of elation is the same. When they put that medal around my neck, the glory is mine and all mine. I did this, I earned this. Time and what sequence I finished in is forgotten. For really what is a runner? Only a runner knows. Only a runner knows the reason, only a runner understands why they endure the heat, the cold, the sweat and the pain. The long steady and often lonely runs. I have run through it all, storms and sleet, bugs, heat exhaustion, with injury, in a downpour and with old man winter biting through my clothes. But still I run. For in that run and every run there is something so deep, so pure it becomes hard to express, unless of course you run.
On this particular day, I brought my phone and thought. I am going to run slow and steady and show the world what I see. The beauty and the solitude. One of my favorite places to run is St. Margaret's Village. I have brought you Steemians here before. Today I just took shots of all the different colors I saw on my run. Please enjoy my ramble through St. Margaret's Village.
I hope you enjoyed what you saw.
Namaste
