5 miles
franklin loop
50 degrees
Felt colder than 50 degrees with the wind and the occasional brief downpour. A beautiful fall morning. Because of the wind and rain, there weren’t too many people out on the trail. Running above the river was wonderful–so much more of a view as the leaves leave. I love late fall. More of a view, winter and winter running are coming, less people will be on the trail which means less fear and distraction over keeping a safe distance.
Things I Remember
- The sun just barely glowing through the clouds behind me, enough to enable my shadow to make a faint appearance in front of me. Hello friend!
- So much wind on the Lake Street bridge that I was blown across the sidewalk and had to hold onto my hat for several minutes
- The river! Every year I forgot how wonderful the view is, having not seen it since May. Open, airy, a chance to breathe, to stare at the water as it winds down the gorge!
- Glancing down at the floodplain forest from the tunnel of trees and admiring the soft glow of yellow leaves
- Noticing the dog park at Meeker Island is open
- The curve of the black wrought iron fence at an overlook on the Winchell Trail not too far from Franklin
- Being able to see the entire trestle, stretching to the other side, wondering when/if a train would cross it
- Running at least 10-12 feet from some walkers and smelling the perfume of one of them, being reminded of how far someone’s presence/scent/air can travel, wondering if I should be wearing a mask when I run
Today’s October Surprise
Last night, walking through the neighborhood, Scott and I heard a dog barking–I think it was a french bulldog or a boxer?–whose bark sounded like they were yelling out the word bark. “Bark! Bark! Bark!” It made me giggle. Some day I would like to have a dog that I named Bob Barker.
Working on my fourth mood ring poem today. As I ran, I reflected on a line about what, in a face, indicates life–a glimmer in the eye? the raising of an eyebrow? a slight head nod? the curve of a mouth?
Speaking of head nods, I have been intending to post this poem for several months. It seems fitting today as I think about how people connect through gestures:
Ode to the Head Nod/ Elizabeth Acevedo
the slight angling up of the forehead
neck extension quick jut of chin
meeting the strangers’ eyes
a gilded curtsy to the sunfill in another
in yourself tithe of respect
in an early version the copy editor deleted
the word “head” from the title
the copy editor says it’s implied
the copy editor means well
the copy editor means
she is only fluent in one language of gestures
i do not explain i feel sad for her
limited understanding of greetings & maybe
this is why my acknowledgements are so long;
didn’t we learn this early?
to look at white spaces
thank god o thank god for
you
are here