3.19.16 Fine, on thin ice

There was thin ice on the puddles along the dirt road, from the cold night- and you could just barely see your breath, chuffing in the morning air. 

It was an almost cloudless sky, save a few mare's tails, elegantly arching far overhead, as two redwing hawks swooped into each other, and then apart, enthused with the wind and the courting and the bright endless day. 

So we climbed out of the car, I tossed the ball far, for the pup, and set off down the 

part-frozen, part-muddied road. Far off to the left I could see the outwaters of the river, flooded and soaking the land beneath the trees. 

Before me lay the curved tide of unshorn corn husks, that had been turned into a thick covering pulled across the road by spring flooding, now slowly turning to dust more each day. 

Looking far off in all directions I took in the glistening cars crossing the bridge, the serene Connecticut swinging round the curve of land, and a few individuals , small as ants , along the far end of the road. 

I zipped up my polar fleece against the unexpected chill, and set out, expecting my usual thud thud thud plodding. 

When suddenly something morphed in me. 

My legs became more powerful, more elongated , and there was this urge to Push Off! To extend from the hip. To stretch and reach each leg.

So I did, and somehow, for the first time in years, swept along by one effort after another , I really ran.