Wow, my second post in just a couple weeks! I know what you’re thinking…um, Lindsey, shouldn’t you be studying? The answer to that would be a resounding Yes. But I’m starting to think that writing, for me, is even better therapy than running. Or maybe it’s writing about running. Yeah, it’s probably the combination.
But after this morning’s run, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to reflect on what that 30+ minutes was for my well-being.
Wednesday mornings are my favorite. Typically I get Ally out the door to catch her bus around 6:45 before the boys are awake, so I have a few minutes to sit with her while she eats breakfast. Usually the front door closing is the cue for Silas to stir. And then a few minutes later I have to go nudge Ethan to get moving. Today was no different.
By 8 am the boys were dropped at school and I was on my way to what I call, “My Secret Place,” to go for a run. It’s not really a huge secret, it just sometimes feels like one because I never see anyone else there. Which I love. And today I needed that. My life has been filled with so much excess noise and voices that I needed to seek refuge in solitude.
I pulled into a parking spot and was surprised to see a couple other cars there, but I knew their drivers were probably off on hikes, or bikes, and I would still likely be the only runner on the road. I was, at least, the only human runner on the road. I started my watch, just because I had to be diligent in observing the time. School doesn’t start until 10 on Wednesdays, but I still try to be in my seat before Mr. Mahoney gets to the classroom, which is usually about 10:04.
Anyway, I started my watch and put in yurbuds in my ear, but I didn’t turn on my ipod just yet. Over my head I heard a loud “Caw, Caw” from a big black crow, and I turned my face up to the blue sky. I didn’t see the bird, but I heeded his warning that instead of filling my ears with the sounds of Kesha and Jayzee and the other trash that seems to motivate me, I needed to hear the song of the woods.
I started out and it wasn’t long before the sounds around me rewarded me with their symphony.
There’s a little brook that runs along the road, and almost immediately I was happy to hear its joyful babbling. It struck me that so often, when we hear water, it is rushing, fast and furious, much like me in most aspects of my life lately. But the brook was soft and peaceful. At times the movement was so subtle, it was almost still, and I relished the reminder that sometimes is ok to be silent.
Just up ahead, about 25 yards ahead of me, I caught sight of a deer slowly crossing the road, into the woods on the other side. A few seconds later, another one. And a few seconds later, a young fawn, who stopped and stared down the canopy covered lane at me, before continuing on into the woods behind it’s guardians. I smiled at how peaceful they were out for a morning stroll.
There was a chorus of critters all about me. I can’t even pretend to know which birds I heard. I recognized the rhythmic tapping of the woodpecker, but the ones I didn’t know, I enjoyed, nonetheless. There was one that sounded like it was whistling, one that had a high pitched squeak of squeezy toy and one that sounded like it was beaconing me, “Hey, you. Hey, you. Hey, you…” as if I could just float up to join him in the branches above. The orchestra was rounded out by the clickity-clack of cicadas, I think. Are they even around right now? And definitely lots of chirping from grasshoppers and their friends.
There was an occasional shuffle of leaves off to the side, squirrels scooting around in their hurried but indecisive patterns. And then there was a chipmunk. He stopped on the road right in front of me. I stopped. We regarded each other and then just as quickly he was gone.
It’s amazing how when you are really focused on hearing each and every sound around you, you can even hear the soft drifting of a leaf as it falls like a snowflake to the ground and softly plunks down on the pavement. It became a game I played with myself, watching the leaves fall and seeing how far away I could hear them land.
I think if I would have had time, I might have made up for some of my missing marathon training mileage today. However, Pharmacology was calling, so I answered. After a quick shower at home, tossing my backpack in the car and a refill of my coffee for the drive to school, I walked in just after Mahoney had taken attendance. He said hello and nothing more. I’m usually prompt, so I think he let my minor tardiness slide. I was out of breath from hustling in from the parking lot, but I was still pretty proud of the fact that on my way in the building another student acknowledged my Ironman backpack saying how much she liked it. My response was, “Thank you. I earned this.”
Unfortunately, school didn’t go quite as well as I hoped today. Pharm is typically the one class, I am confident I can do well in, but today I think my anxiety of third semester got the best of me and I completely bombed my test this afternoon. Somehow, I am going to need to figure out a way of reminding myself of my song of the woods while I sit in the computer lab where the silence is deafening and pummels me with doubt lately.
It’s not a secret that this semester has been a rollercoaster of emotions so far, and I’m confident that will probably continue until I make it to the next round and I can proudly say, “I earned this.” But in the meantime, however brief the moments may be, I will often return to “My Secret Place”, my happy place, and allow the woods to sing to me a song that reminds me that I can and I will and this too shall pass.
Perhaps next time I should just make a recording to listen to while I study.