Sunday, July 8, 2012

Natural Running

Darting up a hillside, I bound over a soft, pine-needled forest floor. Along the ridge, I followed Deer trails over a sandy patch of ground. Up and down a ravine, I slalom raced around a group of Scrub Oaks.

At the base of an elder Pinion, the trail forked. A quick decision needed to be made. Passing the right branch of the trail, I quickly spun-jumped back onto that trail and downhill. I slowed to a walk to tend to cramps and catch my breath, then quickly back to a run, downhill.

Long-jumping a large stream bed, I landed abruptly on its uphill edge, but quickly dug my toes into the ground to launch me back to a run. Through an arroyo in the valley, I snaked up and down each side of the half-pipe walls as I gained elevation. Up a steep, sandy-soiled hillside, I plowed my way through a thicket and onto a portion of Gallina Canyon Road.

Rain began to gently but steadily fall and I bound uphill in a rhythmic gait. A maroon-red pickup filled with Hispanic men passed, a young boy in the bed holding a rifle. Back in rhythm, I ran until a black Jetta passed, a middle-aged woman, Caucasian, short straight black hair, driving. I jumped to the side, behind a large Juniper bush for camouflage. She didn't see me.

Happy for a brief respite, I quickly worked my way back into a steady rhythm. My breath inhaled and exhaled within the groove of a polyrhythmic song, syncing with my feet as they shuffled along the sandy, fine-graveled road. Linear time faded briefly from my consciousness. I bound up another hill along the road with relative ease and worked my way to the top.

Western views of the Mesa, Two Peaks, and Tres Orejas opened up through a window in the forest and I stopped to gaze. Thoughts of future journeys came to mind. The thunderous sky opened and a heavy rain began to fall. I stuffed my shirt into a pocket of my shorts and began to retrace my tracks. I slid the tie holding my hair together onto my wrist and put my cap back on, backwards. My breath worked its way back into the polyrhythmic song and my run became a dance. I spun a 360 into the flow of my decent. My arms and hands waved and wound to a groove like Shiva.

A large white pickup passed and I jumped off trail without missing a beat. Clumps of muddy clay clung to the tread of my shoes. It flung off as I jumped and clicked my soles together. Time once again faded away as my consciousness shifted to a steady stream of meditative thought. Outside an adobe, voices of conversation brought my external awareness back into focus. I was at the edge of our driveway.

Down the rocky drive and up the last stone-covered 30 yards, I raced quickly. I walked into the house to wash my hands. My skin was damp, my hair soaked and curled. In dry clothes, I spread out upon the floor into yoga postures to bring my forest jaunt to a close.

Natural Running.