Warrior

I decided to brave the 58 degree sunny weather and go for a trail run through the Chattahoochee Hills along the river. The horse trail works its way through the forest, up and down hills, and along the banks of the serene water way.  It felt good to get out and push myself again, I haven't done so  since I hiked the Inca Trail in Peru before Christmas.

It wasn't far and it wasn't fast, but I felt my lungs expanding, my legs burning, and a gentle calm settling over my mind.  I concentrated on my breathing, letting thoughts come and go, not following any of them.  The next thing I knew I was face-planted into the dirt having tripped over a hidden root. So much for moving meditation.  Nonetheless, the fall was a not so gentle reminder to stay in the present moment, nature's (God's?) very own kyôsaku.

I got up, covered with dirt, blood, and probably a bit of horse dung and moved on; ego bruised, but that's a good thing right now.  At the end of the trail I was breathless, in pain, and covered with nature.  I felt like a warrior again.