I ease up 7th street, a casual jog – no watch, no phone, no camera, just running shoes, shorts and a long sleeve shirt. I’m slightly underdressed for late December, but like the feeling of freedom, reminiscent of summer. The flatirons come into sight, jagged tips above the large mansions that line the street. The sun peeks over the summit of the First Flatiron casting long, pyramidal rays across the meadow below- a stunning sight. For a split second, I’m disappointed that I have nothing, but my memory to capture the image. Yet, the feeling of lightness and momentary detachment from the electronic world far exceeds any desire to create a digital impression. My senses are touched with the right stuff- sunshine and fresh air. A warm burn runs down my legs as they propel me up the hill.
We live in a world of distractions. Running is so simple, so elemental, that it is often easy to forget how nourishing and freeing it can be. The trail is laced with bulletproof ice. Many people are out, sliding around, hiking off a weekend of celebration, eating and drinking. I dart off the main path, drop my hands to my knees and push with intent up the climb. Every part of my body is engaged. I focus on my breath- labored, shallow. In contrast, my mind is serene. It’s good to move. It’s good to run.