Just Write 1 ~ Winter morn

   January 8, 2013 1:57 am    0

 

Originally posted at touchofcass.wordpress.com because I just couldn’t decide where to this fit better:

My alarm goes off at 5 a.m. I snooze it twice before finally waking long enough to listen for wind outside my window.

Silence.

The only sound the jingling of the dog’s tags and tapping of his nails on the kitchen floor as he dances around my husband, hoping for a handout.

Dan’s  sitting at the breakfast bar with the newspaper. He’s been up for at least a half hour. Why he gets up so early to go to work, I’ll never know. If I were a guy, I’d sleep until 3 minutes before I had to leave. Wouldn’t that be one of the greatest benefits of being a guy? Roll out of bed, throw on any semi-clean shirt and jeans, and go.

“How is it?” I ask. He knows that I mean the weather. He’s a runner, too.

“Nice. No wind.”

Damn. No reason not to run then.

I go back to my closet and get dressed. My tights and Under Armour scream “RUN TIME!” to Sam who abandons Dan to start dancing around me.

I drag my feet getting out the door. Sam grows impatient and eventually tugs at my sleeve.

At least one of us wants to run.

I get his collars on and we set out. But to Sam’s great disappointment, I decide it’s too icy to take him. Last thing I need on an icy day is to be attached to a lead dog.

I turn around and leave him with Dan. I’m glad it’s dark so I can’t see his eyes. If dogs could give the finger, he’d have flipped me the bird for sure.

A mile into it, I’m still feeling guilty for not bringing him as I walk up the hill. If Sam were with me, I wouldn’t be walking.  I start whining to myself.

This sucks. This is stupid. I’m running in the freezing cold at 5 a.m. on icy roads that I can’t see because it’s still dark out. Not a light on in that house. They’re probably all still snug in their warm beds, while I’m out here doing this…

I hate this.

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

The sun is starting to rise behind the pine trees to the left; a faint lavender glow. The other half of my brain chimes in.

No you don’t. You love this, and you know it. How lucky you are to have this. 

They’re missing out, all those people snug in their beds. They never see what I see. They never experience the serene beauty of a winter sunrise as sweat trickles down their back. They never notice how completely silent winter is (or realize how different it is from spring when the birds are near deafening).

Running is a gift.

A half-mile from my house, I realize there’s a woman standing on her porch yelling at something.  A dog. Standing in the driveway.

Crap.

It’s too dark to see what kind of dog it is, but I know from hearing the barks coming from that house on previous runs that it’s a big dog.  I can make out his outline, he’s chesty – like a boxer or a pit bull.

Oh God.

I stop running and walk by, praying he won’t give chase. The owner is still yelling the dog’s name. He’s not moving.

Then, he must have because I hear the woman  yell,  “Don’t you do it! Get over here!”

Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God. 

I’m far enough away to start running again. A neighbor’s garage door is open, her car running, warming up. I make a plan to run for the garage if I hear the dog behind me.  I don’t. He must’ve listened.

First thought: Stupid, stupid owner.

Second thought: Thank God I didn’t bring Sam, or that dog would’ve come out for sure.

My heart rate is finally back to normal by the time I get home. I get no tail wag or happy greeting. Sam is sulking, oblivious to the fact that I probably just saved his butt.

Like me, he’s no good at holding a grudge. He waggles over to apologize.

6:08 a.m.

Time for a 10 second run.

“C’mon, Sam, let’s go get Kelly.”

I take off running for the stairs. He chases and beats me up every single time. He leaps on her bed, waking the slumbering beast preteen.

“Good boy, Sam. Good boy.”

 

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About Just Write
“What ends up revealing itself when free writing is that everything has meaning. That is a magnificent gift of writing. If we write from a free heart-gut place, our souls start speaking.”

 

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