Aside from bad puns hanging around, there has been a lot of foggy mornings as of late. Visibility has been poor, and I certainly have not enjoyed the drive to work.
It is the perfect weather for disappearing into the woods for a few hours. The kind of adventure where one may get lost even on a trail they know quite well. Every turn, every dip, every rise… hidden and secluded in the mist.
The physical description a reflection of the metaphorical; the shroud of fog forcing the runner to focus only on the here and now, rather than the future. No peripheral distractions, concentrating only in the small space in which you occupy. The rocks, roots, and obstacles that must be overcome in the present to reach the end goal. One step at a time.
It’s peaceful out there in the fog, but often the solitude is why we run. To find ourselves, miles from where we call home.
I will go to my office and turn on the space heater, fire up my computer and start ticking off tasks on the Gantt chat, but I would rather be ankle deep in mud, ticking off the miles. Instead of keyboard strokes, the sounds of twigs snapping beneath my feet and birds calling onto the gray.
One day at a time, one step at a time.