Being and running in the forest
During today’s evening run I notice that the layer of snow is heavier, thanks to milder temperatures. Not super wet but more packed. Running alone in the forest trying not to slip on the ice underneath. I brought the mobile phone just in case… Looking out for eyes reflecting the headlamp’s long beam. Looking out for holes in the ground between the rocks.Passing the blueberry bushes from last summer. After picking blue gold for an hour or so I rested with a book in the evening sun against a smooth rock. Letting the last warm rays caress my skin. The blueberries never seemed to end. I used to dream about blueberries. And if it wasn’t for the ticks I would have slept with them. Now the blueberry bushes are sleeping under the snow, like this evening when snowflakes dance in the air. From the ridge I have the thousand lights from the western suburbs of the city. During daytime you can see the sea from the ridge, with its islands.
It’s a familiar sight for me, having run here the last 10 years – 1/4 of my life. Nowadays I also consider this forest a part of me. The trails – especially “my trails”, the rolling hills and waiting trees. The parallell ridges and ponds. The sounds and smells. When I lay down to do my push-ups my hands feel the ground. Coming back home about an hour later, or maybe more, I didn’t count the minutes. I guess I was busy with feelings of happiness and beauty.