The End of Running as I Know It

This evening I “ran” for forty minutes. As in the past, I was passed. By everyone. But since I was a true beginner again, I didn’t mind that much. My knees hurt a little, but not badly. I experimented with new ideas: running lightly instead of pounding, trying not to drop my body like a lead weight onto each of my feet in turn. I tried to relax. I tried to look around. The moon was out before sunset; it was almost full, and orange. The air was crisp, but not freezing. The foliage on the trees made a pattern colored by brilliant shades of red, yellow, and orange. I felt my body slowly and reluctantly accept the unaccustomed task. I’m getting older, you know?

And then I started to have fun. I was running badly and very slowly, but I started to experience my body differently. I had a fresh sense of the movement of my legs, the position of my shoulders, the scope of my eyesight. My vision felt heightened; I was really seeing the park again as if for the first time. It was beautiful. As I became aware of this new connection to my body and the world, I was reconnected to my life, my sense of myself, my past, my future, and the inevitable ending of all of these.