Day 21 -- Blogathon Final
When I committed to writing for 21 consecutive days, I didn't realize that Day 21 would fall on Easter, but here it is. I also didn't stop to think that it could be on the day of my longest run so far this year--8 miles, even though the timing made sense. All in all, Day 21 was inadvertently set for a potentially auspicious day. And what a day it's been!
It started with my run. It was a slow one, nine minutes of shuffling followed by one minute of walking, over and over. But it was a lovely morning. That big moon was still around when I started out, and the sky was full of sunshine by the time I got home. I had good timing all the way through this run. The most serendipitous timing occurred when I rounded a corner on the waterfront at Berkeley's Cesar Chavez Park and was greeted by bells and voices rising to the heavens.
I realized I had come upon an Easter celebration starring a choir and a group of hand-bell musicians, not to mention a guitarist and possible other musical artists that I may have overlooked in my fatigued and startled state. Their exultant chorus soared to a crescendo just as I came upon them, their happy sound flying upward into the lightening sky. With a start I realized I had come upon them at the exact moment of sunrise, the most sacred time of all in the Easter celebration. As the sun peeked above the hill before them, over and over they sang, "Jesus has risen! Jesus has risen! Jesus has risen!" I didn't feel as heretical in my running duds as you might suppose; running for me is as close to worship as I ever come, and I was grateful to be running on this day of celebration.
As I headed homeward, I surprised a jackrabbit in the meadow. She stood on her hind legs, silent as a statue, willing herself invisible as I clomped by. Later, as I ran up Hearst Street, I saw a furry vole as he disappeared through a hole in the curb that I presumed led to the sewers below. All God's creatures were up and about, including me.
Near the end of the run I absent mindedly decided to cut through the parking lot of a church near my house, just as I often do. But I don't usually do it at 8 am on Easter morning. There I was, with 7.5 miles worth of sweat running down my body, just as Easter mass was beginning. The church doors were wide open, the sacred music pouring through them. Worshippers in their Easter best studiously avoided looking at me as they climbed out of their cars to stride purposefully past me toward the church.
I ran home. As my run wound down, I stopped at the tree I mentioned earlier in this series--the one that I told to be patient because its leaves would come soon. I stopped and made a tree portrait because--the leaves had arrived!
Finally, in this day of singers and rabbits and tree leaves (oh my), Z fulfilled a promise he gave me for Christmas and took me to the Oakland Zoo.
And that, my friends, was the last day of the 21. I hope you've enjoyed them. I certainly have. I may write more about them at some point--or I may just let them stand as examples of how it was, trying to share with the world some of what lives in my heart. I can't tell you what will be there then (in the future, that is). I'm to busy trying to be here now.
Happy Easter to you, and Passover too!
It started with my run. It was a slow one, nine minutes of shuffling followed by one minute of walking, over and over. But it was a lovely morning. That big moon was still around when I started out, and the sky was full of sunshine by the time I got home. I had good timing all the way through this run. The most serendipitous timing occurred when I rounded a corner on the waterfront at Berkeley's Cesar Chavez Park and was greeted by bells and voices rising to the heavens.
I realized I had come upon an Easter celebration starring a choir and a group of hand-bell musicians, not to mention a guitarist and possible other musical artists that I may have overlooked in my fatigued and startled state. Their exultant chorus soared to a crescendo just as I came upon them, their happy sound flying upward into the lightening sky. With a start I realized I had come upon them at the exact moment of sunrise, the most sacred time of all in the Easter celebration. As the sun peeked above the hill before them, over and over they sang, "Jesus has risen! Jesus has risen! Jesus has risen!" I didn't feel as heretical in my running duds as you might suppose; running for me is as close to worship as I ever come, and I was grateful to be running on this day of celebration.
As I headed homeward, I surprised a jackrabbit in the meadow. She stood on her hind legs, silent as a statue, willing herself invisible as I clomped by. Later, as I ran up Hearst Street, I saw a furry vole as he disappeared through a hole in the curb that I presumed led to the sewers below. All God's creatures were up and about, including me.
Near the end of the run I absent mindedly decided to cut through the parking lot of a church near my house, just as I often do. But I don't usually do it at 8 am on Easter morning. There I was, with 7.5 miles worth of sweat running down my body, just as Easter mass was beginning. The church doors were wide open, the sacred music pouring through them. Worshippers in their Easter best studiously avoided looking at me as they climbed out of their cars to stride purposefully past me toward the church.
I ran home. As my run wound down, I stopped at the tree I mentioned earlier in this series--the one that I told to be patient because its leaves would come soon. I stopped and made a tree portrait because--the leaves had arrived!
Finally, in this day of singers and rabbits and tree leaves (oh my), Z fulfilled a promise he gave me for Christmas and took me to the Oakland Zoo.
It was a wonderful gift. More critters! (Click to enlarge, of course.)
And that, my friends, was the last day of the 21. I hope you've enjoyed them. I certainly have. I may write more about them at some point--or I may just let them stand as examples of how it was, trying to share with the world some of what lives in my heart. I can't tell you what will be there then (in the future, that is). I'm to busy trying to be here now.
Happy Easter to you, and Passover too!
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