One Foot...

In front of the other.

I am so tired, I have a cold, I have to read about ad rates, which I dread.

But I must put one foot in front of the other. That is what it takes to run a marathon.

This morning the hills were red gold and the sky was blue. Our beds were cozy and we all are battling sleepiness and bodies that feel like lead. But I got up, put on my shoes, my brand new jog bra, my sweat shirt, grabbed my music, and headed for the reservoir. My feet were so heavy, my muscles tight. My training manual said this was a pull back week, a recovery week. Oh, Lordy, please let it be so.

I got out on the path, and the air smelled like pine needles, the Hollywood Sign reflected perfectly in the stillness of the water, and my city lay below me wrapped in mist (and smog). (I tried to photograph but impossible to capture).

Not the Sierras, but beauty in my backyard.

I was slow.

But I did it. I ran. I finished. My head is clearer. And I know I have it in me--the energy to force myself to just move a little when I don't want to. To put on my shoes, head out, move foward.

And look what I found:



One of nature's treasures.

Fodder for a Christmas card.