I’m not a runner. At. All. Too many bits jiggly and wobble for it to be enjoyable. In my head I have a perfect image of how it would be to go out for a run, then I get excited, get up early, try it and remember that I’m not fit, and I hate waking up before the sun. In reality my zen is a quiet cup of coffee watching the sun come up wrapped in a blankie on my lounge.

It was just me and the road.

The sun only just bleaching the sky a pale blue.

Magpies warbled into the clean dawn air.

The sharp inhale of frigid breath warmed in my chest before I exhaled and pumped my arms harder.

A ginger cat scurries under a parked car, it’s small head poking out and watching me as I jog past, making sure I wasn’t a threat.

There was nothing but me and nature, the road and my breath.

It was my zen, my meditation and later when I would shower and get ready for the day I’ll be centred knowing that I did something just for me.

Come on over and friend me on Facebook at Lisa Lancaster.

Photo by Fan D via Flickr, licensed under Creative Commons

3 thoughts on “Run

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