And I'm actually sore!

One beautiful thing I experienced today:

Running. I wasn't going to at first; my foot is still sore from straining a tendon there -- but when I put on my tennis shoes to get ready for a bike ride, I thought, "My feet feel okay," and so I went for it. The trail from the end of the cul de sac that connects to the park was thick with mud and blooming green everywhere; those weeds with sticky bristles and tiny drops of leaves covered the ground and trees were bursting with new buds. I navigated the mud carefully and hit the paved trail on the other side. And about twenty seconds after I started pounding the pavement, I felt the feeling I have been sorely missing the past three weeks, a sense of puzzles locking into place. Contentment. I am never content anymore, but then I was, despite the vague soreness in my foot. It was just too easy, the sun drenching the leaves above, rays of light making their way through the green, the cool, sweet air, even the burn of my lungs as I tried to figure out how to be a runner again. Passing the other trail-goers: the woman walking her tall brown poodle, her four kids running out in front of her, the old man on his bicycle. Following the guy in his white shirt and red shorts as he flew far in front of me.

I only went about half a mile. It was enough.

Listening: Winter Gloves, "Factories"