How I Love Thee October
Fall is my favorite time of the year, but October is my absolute favorite. This morning I woke up, pulled on my running clothes and headed out into the crisp morning air. The bracing cold was exhilarating! I stepped along climbing towards the moon, which was so large, I thought I might step right onto it. It was silent except for the fall of acorns, like popcorn in the distance. The cold removed the veil of a weekend of football and alcohol as quickly as it cleared the skies. Any ambiguity from the surrounding town was erased by the incredible clarity of the skies above. This is why bourbon was invented. It fits the environment like a Timberland boot or an old sweatshirt.
Tomorrow I’ll rise with the sun to log a few more miles on these tired bones. 20 minutes into the run I’ll pass through a cloud of my own breath and crest the first big hill. Beyond me, below me is a repository of nature spread out for miles. Old Virginia is still the foundation here. Among the new townhouse developments and strip malls the houses of a century past dot the rolling hills. I'll pass an old farmhouse, grass white with frost and green giving way to red, orange, yellows and brown trees. Further along, an old barn that has survived the onslaught of humanity sits in a fog so thick that it’s as if GOD took an eraser to nature.
I love these days because it makes running hard. The cold is making my lungs heavy and wet and my time slips away. What was a challenge in the summer is now more akin to survival. Its no longer how fast I get back up that hill, but IF I get up that hill. I suppose if I don't make it, I'll just settle in on a pile of leaves and wait for Maidens with steins of amber liquid to carry me to the Oktoberfest in the Sky.
Prost!
Tomorrow I’ll rise with the sun to log a few more miles on these tired bones. 20 minutes into the run I’ll pass through a cloud of my own breath and crest the first big hill. Beyond me, below me is a repository of nature spread out for miles. Old Virginia is still the foundation here. Among the new townhouse developments and strip malls the houses of a century past dot the rolling hills. I'll pass an old farmhouse, grass white with frost and green giving way to red, orange, yellows and brown trees. Further along, an old barn that has survived the onslaught of humanity sits in a fog so thick that it’s as if GOD took an eraser to nature.
I love these days because it makes running hard. The cold is making my lungs heavy and wet and my time slips away. What was a challenge in the summer is now more akin to survival. Its no longer how fast I get back up that hill, but IF I get up that hill. I suppose if I don't make it, I'll just settle in on a pile of leaves and wait for Maidens with steins of amber liquid to carry me to the Oktoberfest in the Sky.
Prost!
posted by Fastest Squirrel at 07:30
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