When the trees whisper softly with their windy Autumn breath and the sun quietly laughs with its rounded belly as it sets beyond the Park.
When my feet brush the ground with cool, quick kisses, trailing the dirt path with loving adoration for the miles they meet.
When my own breathing and beating heart create a symphonic wonderment with the scurrying squirrels, the crunch of my footfall and the sounds of the almost-bare branches raising their arms up in victory for me.
When I become lost in the spiritual embodiment of the run, when my body loses touch with the realities of the world and hones in on its own movements, the beauty of muscle and sinew and bone in perfect unity with the beat of my heart and the rise and fall of my chest.
When all the world no longer matters. When my simple footfall in the woods becomes the only matter of importance, the only measure of happiness, success, honor. When I become the run.
That. That is when I am at peace.
Where do you find your peace?
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