Ran the Bridle Trail plus this morning. After struggling at the start and trying to pump myself up with way too pumped for the morning music, I pulled the earbuds out of my ears and calmed way down. What running gives me is that feeling I'm after when I just want to tell the world to please go away and leave me in peace for just like 20 minutes. And this week, I'm after it.
I found my rhythm. Found my feet make a scraping sound on the gravely dirt trail, and each solid uphill push-off shoots a tiny stream of the trail up my achilles and down my sock. Found the glowing green algae down by the boathouse sits still as a solid layer an inch below the water rather than at the surface. My mind wandered to dressing separating and to summer salad with sugar snap peas, what grains I could add. Farro? With scallions, perhaps, and hazelnuts. I should try it out for gladwared lunches and then use it for a dinner party. Dinner parties make me think of crisp air and scarves and wine, and unbundling friends coming through the door. Not 'til then. Summer is for barbeques, but it's harder to have a settle in for the night dinner party in a season of no shuttering in. I want leaves turning and falling and scenting the air, and to smell fireplaces (if I can in the city).
Rounded the bottom of the park, remembered I was running on a summer work day, and crossed Fifth to get home. The respite was nice while it lasted and lasts, keeping me a little calmer through the hectic day.
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