This blog is about inspiration, basically. I write about what moves me, whether it is something beautiful, silly, tragic, or just … well … something. I hope that my mutterings are interesting, and I try to keep them concise. After all, writing should be enjoyed, not endured.
So it’s the beginning of the year, and I am full of promise and promises. Yes, that means I worked out this morning, by taking the dog up to the ridge after I dropped my boy at school. Actually he jumped out of the car at the stoplight, hopped on his skateboard, and pumped toward the middle school.
All action. All the time. It’s what boys do.
I tried to mimic his energy up on the ridge, with the idea that I would run up the hills and walk down the back side. You know, get the steep awful stuff out of the way as fast as possible by putting my head down and trying to forget, for a brief period, that everything in my body hurt. The pay off, if you can call it that, comes at the top, when the pumping is over but the pain is not. I look at my shoes a lot during this period. And pant.
But then the pain passes. Disintegrates like a foggy windshield heated by the defroster. That’s when I look up and enjoy the leisurely walk down the back side, taking in the view of Mt. Tam and the houses snuggled in the green trees.
Janine and Alan are running up some steep hills lately. And they inspire me because of it. My wish for them in this new year – and for all of us really – is that the inexplicable grace of life sets on their shoulders and allows them, and their sweet son Mason, to walk leisurely down the back side, taking in the view.