For a multitude of reasons, I find it harder to run at this time of year. For me, it’s typically after my biggest races of the year and before I know what I’ll be aiming for next. The days are getting colder and shorter. I go a little too deep into my “off season” projects, both personal and work-related. There are no big adventures, just runs from my doorstep. These factors combine to sap my confidence and motivation, while tweaking some anxiety. This is nothing new.
In these times, my positive focus changes, zooming in on smaller scales. Instead of the effortless 20 miler or five miles of flying, joy comes out of a playful sprint across the tilled field with my neighbors’ dog Boy or a pasture-length jog with four goats joining me in stride.
Gone are the grand vistas from atop mountain peaks. Instead, I observe them in miniature from afar… and very far.
Broad expanses of flaming aspens have given way to close observation of how the afternoon light plays with the 100-meter-long grove of mature deciduous trees that ensconce Pack Creek Road 1.5 miles up the hill.
Oh, how the paw prints tell the story of many a bear that came to the ranch this autumn, to eat the bumper crop of apples and acorns. Today, another print related the passage of a puma up by the yurt.
A snail shell. Petrified wood. A rusty, old can. Each tells a story of life gone by. Listening to each of them brings me joy.
One evening, Chicago Sid calls out from his porch as I run by. I wave back. The next day, I hear neighbor Jeff call out from amidst the piñons. I call back. This morning, Seldom Seen smiles down at me from atop his tractor as he loads hay. I smile back. These are but moments in my runs, only a few seconds in my day, but in them I find joy.
Call for Comments
- When do you find yourself focusing on the smaller joys?
- Where do you find them?
