Hello from my cold, cold home to yours. Winter has made an appearance, and even though that doesn’t mean land covered in snow (unfortunately), it did bring days upon days of freezing rain. Mornings are dark and wet, and so are evenings, and the days in between bring grey, heavy skies.
And even though most of those days I’d rather not, I still head out for a few miles. After all, running is what has kept me sane so far, and I missed it very much in the time when I was injured after my last 50-mile attempt.
And because I like to write poetry, and also because I know that most people might not understand this slight obsession with something that might sound like self-imposed torture to some, I’ve decided to share a few poems about tunning with you all today. Perhaps they will clear up some of the confusion I, too, once felt, asking, Why on earth would anyone run voluntarily?!
(Poems are taken from my poetry blog; each has a link that will take you directly to the post on that blog if you want to visit.)
It’s four in the morning,
The full moon hanging in the clear sky,
It wakes me up so early
And suddenly, I want to know how to fly.
The silver strings of light
Dancing across our garden and road
Are so tempting, so bright,
Asking me to join them, to sing the ode.
Ode to joy, ode to world
Drowning in the gentle lively moonlight
My sails are still furled
When I leave my bed, its warmth, and take flight.
The cool night air touches
My soft skin, still a bit warm and sleepy
The stars, the dark clutches
My senses in a grasp – is it creepy?
No, it’s not, I feel free,
Alive and invincible, loved, even,
Gently, the night hugs me,
It’s just before the dawn, mile seven.
The birds start singing, loud,
I give the rhythm, my steps sound like drums,
The sky still clear and proud,
When the dawn breaks, impatient, there it comes;
It catches up with me, young and lonely –
The day, the sun.
And I have one thought only;
A Journey Through the Morning Sky
(a longer writing, feel free to skip the intro and outro)
The sun rays start to tickle my cold skin. Across the green and somewhat dirty pond, I can see a dark-skinned boy in a banana-yellow hoodie bent over his textbook. From the gentle swaying of his head, up and down, up and down, I can tell he’s sleeping, and breathing is the reason behind his slow rhythmical movement.
The sun cannot reach him for the intertwined greenery of the two trees that join their treetops above his head. Golden light flows nonchalantly behind the arch the trees create, like if there was a completely new world, like if all I had to do was to walk through the gate and around its sleepy guard and I would be in the Sky world, full of morning sun, looking down at the mists raising from the valleys and flowing between mountains and hills, setting the morning dew onto every leaf of grass, creating the elusive pearls that glitter like pure liquid diamonds touched by gold once the veil of clouds goes away.
Two squirrels play chase, wrapping one of the trees in the flash of their ginger fur, disappearing for a second among the leaves, and then give the other tree the same touch of ginger – and in a second, they’re out of my sight.
And I think; what if I go, what if I pass through the gate and around its sleepy guard, what if I just disappear from here –
Running, seeing the morning world, and coming back before anyone can notice, coming back the same but completely changed, coming back –
And I flee,
And I fly,
I am here,
In the sky,…
The mountain summits passing by,
Alone, standing in the sky,
Oh, Mountains, can I, can I
Be as strong as you –
Standing tall and high?
And the clouds feel so cold
Against my skin made of gold,
Morning sun all around me,
So bright but still, I can see…
Time to go back?
The valleys down below
Filled with seas of milk
Earth awakes, rivers flow,
The sun lifts the misty silk,
Life is all around and I
Am in the middle of all things
Engulfed in beauty and my
Last of worries disappears,
I am wild,
I am free,
And my mind
Far, far away,
Through the sky and beyond,
And I find my way
Back to the green pond.
The guard is awake and looking at me suspiciously. Then, nodding his head, he packs up his textbooks and leaves his post as the golden light slowly disappears, the sun climbing higher on the sky. This gate is closed.
The emerald water helps me to slow down my breath and calm my beating heart as I smooth my hair, wind-swept, sticking around my head in all directions. My widened eyes adjust to the light of this world, and I make my way inside the building, shaking off the last bits of the golden sun dust so that nobody can notice what I was up to just moments ago.
Oh my, what a ride.
Now, should I…
Should I… write?
I ran slow and I ran fast,
I ran over grassy plains and snowy mountaintops,
I ran through rivers and over the dunes of deserts,
I ran with people I love and I ran more alone than ever.
I ran from and I ran towards,
I ran away and I ran for,
I ran, scared, and I ran, strong and brave.
I ran in freezing rain and under the scorching sun,
I ran, beaten, and I ran, victorious.
I ran under the canopy of redwood trees and I ran across earth scorched by wildfires,
I ran in lands that were my home and in lands foreign and unknown.
I ran, filled with joy and I ran filled with grief,
I ran, full of energy, and I ran on empty –
and somewhere along the miles I realized that the emptier my body was… the fuller my heart became.
Worries Stay Locked in the Basement
The dark is still lurking outside my window when I wake.
Up from the bed,
Up from my dreams,
I smell the herbs I dried last weeks, some tea I could make.
Put on my shorts,
It’s early, it seems,
But no, the world is quiet and the quiet is mine to take.
The sky’s getting lighter as I run on the pavement.
There’s the joy,
There’s the meaning,
The birds start to sing and it’s so loud, filled with amazement.
It’s so wild,
It’s so freeing,
And I forget about all my worries, locked down in the basement.
Rain | Haiku
Running in the rain
Sweet drops of water falling
From the cloudy sky