The sun has just dropped below the tree tops, but hasn’t sunk below the horizon yet. There is still a sharp sting of springtime snow in the air, but all I need is a light jacket.
Every so often, the rustle of a bird nesting.
Adele coaxes me on, sounds rolling in the deep from my pocket. No earphones tonight. I want to be present.
The gravel crunches under my shoes while the blue Alberta sky fades into a dusky springtime twilight. My stride lengthens as I crest a hill, smoothly transitioning back to a comfortable pace.
My body works, but doesn’t burn. It surrenders to movement and ebbs and flows with the world around me. Up onto the asphalt, down into the dry, sandy quad tracks in the ditch below.
Four deep brown eyes watch me from the stillness of the trees. Suddenly, white tails flash and they are keeping pace with me for 20, 30, 50 metres. Silly human. Gone, back into the underbrush with a grace I could only hope to have.
A few more miles, breathing gently and full of peace.
A sign tonight that, no matter what happens in this world, no matter how many problems arise, no matter how many battles we fight:
I can always run.