Sunday Morning Coming Down

Sometimes the morning run is perfect.

I awoke early this morning, as I usually do. The dreams were not fitful but rich, not disturbing but revealing. As good dreams must be. I made coffee for myself, and while I read meaningfully, drank it joyfully. Then I dressed for the run.

The weather has changed dramatically these last two days. Which is to say that from sub-zero weather, the temperature has risen to thirty degrees. It feels like Spring, and younger people (alas, much younger people) don their shorts. We saw one man running in his tank top! But me, I put on my three magic fabric shirts, running tights, neck warmer, two pairs of gloves, a hat and a wind breaker, also of magic fabric. And my iPod.

Of course, the air was magnificent, which is to say, not freezing. And the sound track I had prepared was perfect. I ran strong, and whatever occurred in the night in my dreams, spurred me on in my run and my thoughts. And in the background McMurtry, “On the Outskirts,” and Dylan, “Wherever the children go, I’ll follow them,” and the Grateful Dead, “The grass ain’t greener, the wine ain’t sweeter, either side of the hill.” Today was one of those days when, as Gary would say, “I think I could run a marathon.” I felt very strong, though not that strong.

No mind: sometimes a good morning run ensures the day.