I love running. If it weren't for the huffing, puffing, sore muscles, and gasping for air, I'd run a lot more often. To tell the truth, I don't really like to run just to run. Throw in a soccer ball and I'm excited to run for as long as I can keep going, but merely going on and on, step after step, for as long as you can for no apparent reason... I find that not so thrilling.
But spring days, overflowing with the melodies of bluebirds and mockingbirds and saturated with the heady scent of honeysuckle, have a way of charming into exercise even the most resistant. Thus the friendly sun found me heading out at a brisk jog to enjoy the day and get some needed cardio exercise.
Things were wonderful. I wasn't even tired or out of breath. But at the end of the driveway, things got more difficult.
I love Tennessee, and the Lord has blessed us with a nice, cozy house in a great location. The only problem is that we live in a hole. Not a real hole, of course, but a dip in the land that makes it impossible to go more than 2 blocks without climbing a massive hill. These hills are usually only navigated by motor-driven vehicles or small, specially-trained burros. In fact, they probably start the burro training program here... that way, when they get to the Grand Canyon it's a piece of cake.
So the decision goes like this:
End of driveway-> Right-> dead end, turn right-> straight=go around the block and end up at my driveway again. Short trip, not long enough to qualify as exercise, so have to go with another option.
End of driveway->Right->Left-> Right= HUGE hill, steep, and looong. And after you get to the top, you can go left down the hill and have to come up again at the end of the workout, or you can keep going up the hill to circle around and see if you can keep going long enough to make it to where it goes downhill. My legs get sore just looking at that hill.
But if I turn left out of my driveway, the road circles around and THERE'S THE SAME HILL! Like it's following me, taunting me! Less steep, but twice as long, one must go up part way, then cut over to another street, then keep going up till the sidewalk runs out.... and then you have to turn right again and keep going up!! Crazy!
The last option is the one I chose today. I had never gone up that way before, but to my surprise, it was a bit easier than the short, steep hill. The road ends up just a block down from where the steep hill is, so it's just a long way round to the top. By the time I got there I was wondering why I had thought it was cool enough to go jogging outside instead of setting up the fan in front of my elliptical machine.
But jogging on the path that winds around the school at the top of the hill, I began to enjoy it. Darlene Zschech and the Hillsongs team were pumping music into my ears, but not loud enough to drown out the birdsong in the trees next to the path.
Behold He comes
Riding on the clouds
Shining like the sun
At the trumpet call
One of my many favorite songs. I looked up at the maples and saw them waving in the breeze, reminding me of the ancient prophecy, "..and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands."
The path curved around and I could see the dazzling sunshine on the Appalaichan mountains as the next lines played:
So lift your voice
It's the year of Jubilee
And out of Zion's hills salvation comes!
That song and the next one carried me down the hill, but then I had to start going up again. Thankfully my circuit around to get to the top had taken so long that I didn't have to run all the way to the top again, but stopped for my cool down just a little ways up.
The cool down was long; after all, I had to get all the way back to my house. The jogging trail winds through the campus of the local high school, and I had the opportunity to pick tiny yellow flowers from the manicured grass. As I rounded a bend I was greeted by an unexpected cascade of tiny white roses spilling out of a patch of woods. I stopped to smell them, and for the bad idea, try to pick some. I found out that tiny roses doesn't mean tiny thorns. Ouch.
Back up the hill, across the street, and down the hill again to the road where I live. The breeze played gently with the neighborhood trees, and my musings turned to the wind.
I love being outside and feeling a fresh breeze; one of the things I love about living near the mountains is the abundance of wind, whether it is a light, tricksy zephyr or a walloping, boisterous blow. Maybe that's why I so enjoy the Bible verses that connect wind with the Spirit of God, the breath of God, and the workings of God. We see so often in Scripture that God controls the wind and sends it where He wants it. Sometimes when I am alone outside I imagine the breeze that brushes my cheek is really the fingertip of God. And when a breath of wind puffs my bangs out of my eyes, I imagine my Heavenly Father smoothing it back, just like my earthly Dad does sometimes.
It is beautiful to be alive on a day like today, with a gentle, caressing wind playing with my hair and the warm kiss of sunshine on my face.
Even if I did have to exercise to enjoy it.
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