Wednesday, July 2, 2014
running in Scotland-a paean
It was a stunning fall day in Georgia.Clear blue sky, cool breezes that invigorated my spirit after a hot southern summer.I was in Milledgeville for a cross country meet over 20 years ago.I miss those Saturdays.On this one, I had driven out alone, my high school runners were riding on a school bus.As I was driving home, having seen and heard those legs and feet all day, I just had to run myself.I found a big field, pulled over and off I went, in glorious motion.Around ,over and through the grass until I was satisfied.I will never forget that desire to fly over the field.
It is not like that for me anymore, the running. I can easily pass a field and stay behind the wheel but the desire, though different, is still there after 28 years. I was originally enamored by the way I felt after a run.So satisfied that I did it because it is hard and requires overcoming.I also had more energy, which is no small thing.
When I worked for BellSouth in Jonesboro, one of my employees asked me why I ran.The first thing that popped into my head was this:in the future, I do not want to be unable do something that I really want to do because of physical limitations. Little did I know that in June 2014, I would be on a tour of a gorgeous castle in Wales that required climbing steep stairs with many, many steps.The view from the top was worth the trek.
Here is a list of things that this runner believes came into her life because she laced up some old tennis shoes and went out there:
-keeping a journal.
-hiking the Camino and mountains in the Catskills.
-fitness and castles.
I had hoped to run twice in Britain but we only had alone time on one day.We were staying at a lovely inn outside of Edinburgh and that afternoon, after writing in my journal, I laced up my worn red running shoes and started off down the driveway.It got busy, so I saw an entrance to a field of growing oats with paths along the edges.Perfect.Off I went, up a rocky hill, scaring two feasting magpies.Down the hill, turned right and up another hill and then back to the Norton House.I saw some wonderful things in the British Isles but this patch of ground is mine and it is sacred.