Eventually, we will have had enough gorgeous spring days that I will stop ooh-ing and ah-ing and writing things like “Oh my God, this morning was absolutely glorious and beautiful beyond belief.” However, since it’s only February, each of these days is a still a novel break from the bitter days of winter, a small yet intense reminder that there is, in fact, warmth in the world, and oh my God this morning was absolutely glorious and beautiful beyond belief.
In fact, it is so beautiful that as I’m typing this, I’m sitting on the front steps of our apartment while Nat dozes in the stroller. I took his soccer ball on our run, as I thought we’d swing by a play-ground on the way home, but apparently he had other plans. And if his plans involve napping, far be it from me to intervene.
Today’s run is tentative confirmation that my achilles tendon is better, as my heel felt good the entire time. I definitely still notice that something is not quite right with it, but it is so far from painful that it doesn’t even qualify as discomfort; it doesn’t interfere with keeping a regular, steady gait, and I’m able to speed up a little without it complaining. In fact, between the temperatures in the mid-forties, the blue sky flecked with thin, white clouds, and the celebrating song-birds, I really wanted to stretch this into a six mile run, but I’m still remaining very cautious. This is the sort of weather that makes running a near religious experience, and the last thing I want to do is screw up what has so far been a very steady recovery: being forced to sit out spring with a serious achilles injury would strain my Buddhist tendencies to the breaking point.
The goal this morning was to run four easy miles, and at the same time give M a chance to do some cleaning without an insane toddler under-foot. So there was no destination other than simply running and ending near a playground (or, apparently, a nap). I took my regular start up the bike-lane on Tompkins, but instead of turning left on DeKalb, took a right, further east into Brooklyn. East is the one direction our lives almost never take us. We go north to Green Point; west to Clinton Hill, Fort Greene, and Downtown; south-west to Gawanus, Park Slope and Prospect Park; south to Crown Heights and Coney Island. So today, for a change, I headed east. I ran until DeKalb intersected Broadway, then continued on to Bushwick Avenue and followed it south-east for a little while, before turning back west towards the corner of Bed-Stuy that we know well.
Nat was awake for most of the time, pointing out the elevated J line at Broadway and a number of playgrounds along the way. In fact, I didn’t even notice when he nodded off — we stopped after four miles, right by Bread-Stuy, where I was going to grab a cup of coffee before hitting a playground, and he was out. I still got a cup of coffee (for free! After only one full year, I had finally filled up my coffee punch-card), then I slipped on sweat-pants and a sweat-shirt and walked back home, which is where I am now, wrapping this up before turning to my book.
While I was running, as well as now while I’m sitting here on the step, nearly everyone who passes has a smile on there face and is ready with a “Good morning.” How could it not be a good morning it is absolutely glorious and beautiful beyond belief?