Out of Doors on my Birthday

This was indeed a happy birthday for me today!  I have received so many greetings from my friends and family, and especially many very thoughtful gifts from Martha, that it makes me glad to be in a place in my life where things are going so well.  And because this blog is called Highlands Roadrunner, I was especially thankful this morning for the "window of opportunity" I had, between the rain this morning and the predicted rain this afternoon, to go on a short run.  (Have I ever missed running on my birthday?)  Because running, and especially running in a place like Highlands, is a wonderful gift that I acknowledge with reverent thanks, not the least because this old 67-year-old runner (a new number to which I must now become accustomed!) has nearly recovered from injury and is finally back on the road again.

J. P. Krol, who maintains that great blog high atop Mt. LeConte where he is the winter caretaker (http://www.highonleconte.com/daily-posts), said it well today.  He had run down the Bullhead and Old Sugarlands trails.  "I didn't see another person on the soggy trails. It was pure exhilaration," he wrote.

"I love the freedom, the strength and joy that comes with trail running in the Smokies. I feel most alive when I am processing those rocks and roots, determining my foot placement in a split second and breathing hard with effort. We are made to feel such vibrancy in our bodies, to play in the woods and enjoy the lull of the mind that comes with real exercise."

Well said as usual.  I arrived at Founders Park in fog and light drizzle this morning, conditions that might  have seemed uncomfortable to a non-runner.  But a little discomfort is a good thing, as J. P. captured so well in his blog.  At the end of the day we are perhaps even more thankful for that "vibrancy in our bodies" that follows a good, hard run out of doors.  And what a wonderful phrase that is:  out of doors!  Out on the road there are no doors, only the limits of our own fitness which we constantly push against.  And the endless play of light and shadow, the gleaming beads of drizzle dangling from the tips of rhododendron leaves, the sweet musky smell of leaves, and coming down Main Street in the final half-mile, the savory smell of cooking from the restaurants and coffee being roasted at Mountain Fresh.  Happy Birthday, Highlands Roadrunner.