Frost on the ground. Frost on my skin. Warmth in my blood. I plug in my tunes and tune out the world. It’s the closest I can get to being off the grid, at least for a few hours. No matter the past week, long hours, or sleepless nights that lead up to Saturday morning, nothing can take away my love of my weekend long runs.
I hit the road early before the sun opens up and shines her brilliance on the eastern plains of Colorado. Partly, because I want to hide in the darkness; to be alone and unnoticed. And partly, to enjoy the delicate silence that only darkness can bring.
The bitter crispness fills my lungs as October turns into November. My heartbeat races, and my mind mellows. Sometimes it only takes a few miles to detach from the “everything’s” of this world. Sometimes my heart is heavy and my prayers are constant. These are the days when the pavement touches my feet the longest.
Everything all the time. No. This is how we wind ourselves into the ground. Everything has a time, and He has made everything beautiful in its time (Ecclesiastes 3). Not in my time, and not everything all the time.
No shortage of roads. No shortage of thoughts.