I ran at my favorite park a few days ago. The lake is surrounded by farm fields with a view of the Blues moutains and there is still snow on some. The gravel service road is used by hikers, runners, bicyclists, and horses but is rarely crowded. Most people prefer to walk on the paved trail next to Mill Creek.
It was partially cloudy, cool, with a steady wind when I started my run. Ominous black covered the mountains and I saw sheets of rain falling on them. A white tailed deer crossed the road trail, leaped a fence and bounded off into the fields. Her beauty, power, and gracefulness was inspiring. I settled further into the rhythm of my run and felt the tension leave my shoulders. My worries and concerns dropped away.
The wind started gusting at the halfway mark and I smelled the approaching rain: a crisp, fresh, damp scent. I wondered just how run-crazed I am. I noted people heading toward their cars rapidly. They were evidently smarter than me. I elected to run the last few miles anyway.
The clouds opened up. There was no sounds of human life; just falling no rain, tree leaves rustling and the rhythm of my feet striking the ground. Long stalks of spring green grass waved with the wind. Stillness. Peace. Connection with myself and nature. In the moment fully.
Goats grazed on the banks of Mill Creek. They maaaa’d in complaint about the wet. Bells on their collars clanged; a forlorn sound. It is strange how weather and nature can bring both a sense of peace and inner stillness while also bringing sadness simultaneously. Like life- joy can mix with sadness.
I finish the run. Cold, wet, but peaceful. As I slipped on a dry shirt and pair of sweats, the sun came out. Figures.