On The Run - 12/15/08

2.38 mi / 39.32 min / 16:34 mpm

Shattered that 17 minute per mile marker!

I blearily looked at the clock - it was 3:39am. Uggh. I tried to go back to sleep but I never really did. Too may thoughts about what needs to be done today and tomorrow and the day after that . . . I tossed and turned until I finally gave up.

The house was cold this morning - colder than it has been this season so far. I checked the Internet to find out what time sunrise was due . . . 6:44am. It was almost 6 AM so I decided to get a move-on.

I threw on some shorts, a long-sleeve shirt, sweatshirt and grabbed my hat and gloves that I haven't worn in over a year.

It was still dark when the dawg and I loaded up and were on our way to the park. The car readout said the temp was in the upper 40's and then it started to rain. "No problem", I told myself, "just because it is raining here doesn't mean it is raining there . . ."

Sure enough, as we pulled up to Balboa Park, the rain cleared and temperature rose to 55 degrees.

Balboa Park is around 1400 acres in all - full of pine, eucalyptus, redwood and many other types of trees. All throughout the year, the park service thins out the dead or dying trees and either uses the resulting logs as boarders for trails or as wood chips for landscaping which mix in with the pine needles that blanket the ground.

If you have ever grown your own Basil, you know that when you water it, the water hitting the leaves releases the clean and green smell of Basil into the air that you can smell from yards away.

Just imagine what a rainfall on 1400 acres of pine, redwood and eucalyptus wood chips smells like. Then add in the smell of the grass, the earth and countless other flora. The smell was intoxicating.

If I remember correctly, my wine making friends tell me that the perfect temperature to serve wine is 55 degrees (although they would argue that wine at any temperature is better than no wine at all). As the dawg and I headed down our usual trail, I marveled at how beautiful the park looked in the cool early morning hours after a night's rain and I drank in what seemed like pure oxygen.

If you haven't experienced it, it is like breathing in the sea air when you have been away from the ocean for too long. I have a theory that when the waves crash upon the shore and send plumes of sea water into the air, the water vapor filled with the microscopic life of the sea floats on the breeze so that when you breathe in, you aren't just breathing air, you are breathing in life itself. I don't know if there is any science to it, but it feels true. This was very similar only the wooded version.

If I was drinking it in, the dawg was absolutely inebriated. Leaping and jumping and racing here and there - too excitedly drunk with it all to stop and do his usual sniffing at the bushes and tree stumps.

I will confess, I tried to shoot a photo of him but my cell phone battery was dead - the photo above is one from the Internet that looks pretty close to what we saw this morning.

As we headed to the car, warm from the run, a light rain started up again - as if it had stopped just for us.

Apple computer, in all their wisdom, programmed their running Ipods to track your best time in the mile as well as your longest workout. Once I had loaded up the dawg, I remembered to punch the "end workout" button on the nano and as I wast stretching, the voice of Paula Radcliffe came on and said, in her clipped British accent, "Congratulations, that was your best mile yet."

Why yes it was Paula, thank you for noticing.

I jumped into the car, turned on the heater and the James Taylor Christmas album qued up.

As I drove through the rain listening to the stereo and lost in wonder about the run, I missed my on-ramp. Twice. I had to drive through downtown San Diego to get back on track. And I didn't mind a bit.

The song James Taylor was singing that helped drive me to distraction?

Who Comes This Night

Who comes this night, this wintry night,
As to the lowly manger?
The Shepards and the Kings did come
To welcome in the stranger.

Who sends this song upon the air,
To ease the soul that's aching?
To still the cry of deep despair
And heal the heart that's breaking.

Brother Joseph bring the light
Fast, the night is fading.
And who will come this wintry night
To where the stranger's waiting?

Who comes this night, with humble heart,
To give the fullest measure
A gift of purest love to bring
What good and worthy treasure.

Brother Joseph bring the lamb
For they are asking for him
The children come this starry night
To lay their hearts before him.

For those who would the stranger greet
Must lay their heart before him
And raise their song in voices sweet
To worship and adore him

Brother Joseph bring the light
Fast, the night is fading
And who will come this wintry night
To where the stranger's waiting

Brother Joseph bring the lamb
For they are asking for him.
The children come this starry night
To lay their hearts before him.

Pure of heart this starry night
To lay their hearts before him.

You know, life really is beautiful. It's just that sometimes, like Jacob in the Old Testament, you have to wrestle with the angels - even God himself - until you can catch a glimpse of it.

The struggle is hard - painful at times - and every now and then, just like Jacob, the struggle at times will leave you with injuries and scars so deep that they may never heal.

But that doesn't diminish the beauty, my friends - nor lessen the blessing.