Jogging, today, I overshot
the Victoria Park Island
footbridge.
The sight of the Boat House
Restaurant arrested me. After
a quick U-turn I was back on track
but wondered:
Was it the bald trees that muddled me?
Or
Was I hypnotized by the
tick-tock of my feet, or the
pendulum of my breath, or the
chime of my heart?
I was running in that place where the
need to let go of things that
need me to let go of them held sway.
I made my way over the bridge and
wound round the park. Now
back in myself, I saw a goose wink at me:
slipping through a park is not only
prayer, it is also life and breath.
“I was running in that place where the
need to let go of things that
need me to let go of them held sway…”
Even non-runners know that place. Blessed are we when we happen to find it again.
Indeed. There are many paths to that blessed place!
Happens to me on lap 14 of 40. At lap 12 I want to die – or at least be rescued by lifeguards; then at lap 14 I feel like I can swim forever. It is a good place. Thanks for your poem.
You are most welcome… the weather is lovely here and so a run in a bit is in the works!