the light bust through a beat-up shade
Out for a run, and I'm back on top of the world. Confidence, satisfaction, exultation. The road snaked through the mist and a thick green forest. Deer grazing. Pre-dusk magic.
Loud gunshots, and abrupt loss of aerobic stamina have a way of breaking that magic.
It wasn't like shattering glass, or ripping paper; more like someone slid the jigsaw puzzle halfway off the table, and it stayed together but bent and crumpled in a way that kind of disfigured the picture. Maybe a few of the corner pieces fell off, but I managed to save some karma by hopping over four tiny orange lizards.
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*chuckling about the near-miss with the lizards*
Gunshots in the woods. Frightening. I hear it all the time up here, poachers? Now, where did I put that darned neon-orange vest, and will it protect me from inebriated gun-toters? Will they see me in time? Will they think my dog(s) potential dinner?
Oh, the horror. Forgetting the potential for loss-of-life, those bastards just ruin the most delightful child-like experiences when lost in the woods, sniffing in the magic of dampness, light shooting through pine limbs, and seeing how many different kinds of mushrooms you can spot on your journey.
-- Kate S. (June 23, 2003 4:22 PM)
ahh ... the best time of day to go for a run.
-- (June 23, 2003 7:36 PM)