Running

Running....I keep running hoping to outrun sadness, to run away from home or perhaps just to catch up with my now healed body. Last Friday I ran in the woods, in a quiet trail I found rarely used at the park. I have found comfort in the quiet solitude of the woods. There crying and sweating don't seem out of place, as if the rustling leaves encourage my heart to let go and as my body relaxes into the rhythm of my stride my heart too relaxes into this sadness that defines me, and it is so comfortable, like falling into a down comforter after a long day. The tears are healing, and often times I find myself calling out for comfort. Does He hear? If He does, how come I don't feel it? How come my tears are never spent? What new stage of grief is this? I'm confused, it seems to be getting more and more difficult to face life alone. I'm often weepy and tired. Even after a long run where all tension of the body and heart are released I find myself crying at the first notes of a song on the radio or at the thought of opening the door to an empty house.

Last Friday as I was running out of the trail I tripped on a root and fell, twisting my ankle and cutting the side of my knee. When I got up I couldn't stand on my right foot, blood ran down the left side of my leg mixing in with the mud from the wet trail. After I got cleaned up I realize that it was only a slight sprain, but it'll keep me from running for a few days. I missed my long run on Saturday and today's run. I hear the calling of the leaves and feel the coolness of the morning air on my face, my feet yearn for the trail but cannot move, my heart waits patiently for healing and my mind races trying to find a momentary place to cry.