Half a mile. That's it.

Yesterday I managed to make it to the park before the sun disappeared. Despite the unseasonable weather, it was actually a good day for running (then too-soon-after walking). Many others had the same idea—dog walkers, stroller pushers, playground players—all in an effort to coax timid spring out of the closet. It didn’t work.

I used to visit this park daily when the weather was above forty degrees and not raining, and sometimes even when it was raining. I lived down the street, a mile and a half’s run, and being there was part of my routine. I miss it. I miss the regulars. I saw only one yesterday, and our relationship only ever developed into slight head nods, never the hellos and even smiles and waves shared with others. Sweaty McTanrunner was not there; his schedule must have changed this past year when I’ve been absent.

I knew to value that time of my life, at the park especially. It's a very rare occasion when a human being can appreciate a moment in the moment. Perhaps, ironically, impermanence is what made those years so satisfying.

So I'm just going to reintroduce myself to the squirrels and the woodchuck and the regulars who I hope are still regulars.

And my husband is hotter than Sweaty McTanrunner anyway :-)