It was a beautiful run.

I felt a bit queasy as I set down the kettlebell and put on the sandals. For
one thing, it was raining. A 10-minute downpour amid a light shower made the
gutters busy.

Recently, my right foot had gone through some wonderful albeit torturous stretching.
Loosening up the ankle, however, seemed exposing weakness around the area and
it was painful in a few positions. I pushed myself last week, ran down mission peak
with reckless abandon, and had paid the price for two days. It would take time
for the right foot to be as good as the left. I was hopeful as I was on the right path.

By the time I stepped on the trail, the rain already much abated. The creek
hadn't felt it at all but the snails came out in droves. The sky was cloudy,
the tarred path felt fresh and clean, and the east hills seemed beckoning in
their new bright yellow coats. "Take it easy, man. You have the trail to
yourself and all the time in the world." I told myself: "Just enjoy."

The drizzle came on and off as I glided through the dark green canopies of giant
oak crowns high above. Careful breathing bridged between nature and me and
fell in line with motion. Every forced breathing cycle clocked the same number
of steps. Each step hit the ground under the body for the powerful glutes to
engage right away and propel the body forward. Every other muscle felt relaxed.
No attention or energy was wasted.

The seven-mile run was one of those rare occasions where everything just fell
in place. (I kept thinking of the slow-motion of Jim Walmsley in the 2019
Western States 100-mile race.) It was the most enjoyable and did not tire me at
all. Thank You!