I put my hat on, and head to the end of my driveway. I look left, right. I make the turn onto my street.
The movement is de-li-cious after a long ride, hunched over aerobars. Now, I move the way I was made to move.
I tug on the hat to make sure it is snug and low. I see the stretch of road ahead of me.
There is magic in this moment, in the pitter pat of my feet.
Just like this.
My muscles and tendons stretch, and give a yawn. They open to the possibility of speed, but for now content to move forward.
Not long into the run, I visualize the upcoming race day.
I’m in that moment as I put my hat on, and I leave transition. I hear the beep as my chip passes the timing sensor.
I peer out the end of the visor and I almost feel the buzz of race day excitement. But, for now, I’m returned to my neighborhood. The trees clap as the wind pushes them to and fro.
I run down the bike path, chasing the white line of the jog path as if a competitor.
It’s a cold morning. My breath clouds. The effort of running warms me, and the sweat is evidence of the effort. I feel my body relax into the effort, and move at a comfortably hard pace.
I search beyond the brim of my hat and find peace in this moment.
Just here. Now.