This morning I had a recovering run to look forward to – eight or nine miles of easy running to help shake out the leftover half-marathon funk. It’s a beautiful fall day. The trails were calling my name. As I made my way to the park, I remembered that today was my sister Jennifer’s birthday. She would have been 37 years old today.
Happy to be running, happy to be living, happy to have two wonderful boys at home to love, I set out to run. The main trail was crowded. Runners passed me. I passed runners. I couldn’t get to “my trail” soon enough. I needed solitude. I needed to be away from everyone. A mile in I arrived at the trail. A quick turn off of the main trail, and I was alone.
It was a simple run today. I finished right after I felt like I started. There is something magical about being alone on a trail in the early morning hours. I could hear the sound of the bird’s wings flapping. I could hear each and every acorn that fell from each tree. I could hear each leaf crunch beneath my feet. As I finished my run, I felt quiet. I felt content. It wasn’t a run filled with excitement or an overwhelming feeling of pride for finishing. I just felt quiet. Happy. Satisfied. Still.
For nine miles I ran, and I felt my sister with me. A sister I have never meet but will always love. She smiled at all of us today. I smiled today knowing how lucky I am that my family is full of love. Happy. Content. Still. And definitely satisfied with the quiet.