Run, Jane, Run

My work day ends at 4:30, on Fridays. At any time of year, this is an admitted luxury; but during the winter season, when the sun dims well before I’m otherwise able to get home, the benefit is even brighter.

I’ve found myself feeling much more “Jenny”, of late. Surely the Christmas week’s vacation and decision to relocate have served me well; so this past Friday found me bundling, grabbing a leash, and choosing a dog.

The selection process is always a killer. Chad and I haven’t been diligent enough in our partnered exercise with the hounds to track whose turn it is – and I’m a stickler for equal distribution. Food, treats, affection… and walks are the ULTIMATE.

Hula won out, as gunshots rang near and far. This dog, who hails from a breed of branded terrorists (pit bull), experiences her very own nightmare every time an audible siege ensues. Thunder is our constant competitor, we use Rescue Remedy like others subscribe to Advil - and we unfortunately live across the water from a firing range. She may have been able to avoid the panic that overtakes her, had I not infused the environment with potential for escape – but I did, and the only way to subdue her unnerving was to keep her with me.

We made the usual trek down Ingram Road, almost as far as the intersection with Walker – but detoured at what I now term “Coleman’s Deer Run”, to follow a well-worn trail and search for tracks.

Remembering “Morning Girl’s” visits, I deepened my inhalations – through the nose and out the mouth, in well-trained performance fashion - and immediately, layer upon layer of scent and texture of smell unfolded. I took in more breaths, consciously rooting them deep in my belly – and each time, different qualities of the air above, ground beneath, and all things between seemed to rise to recognition.

“This is amazing!” I told my brindle belle; and the awakening of my body to our walk as a fully engaged experience can be the only reason I know of for what happened next – we ran.

OK – maybe “ran” suggests more speed than we were able to maintain; but that last word is the real shock of it all – we MAINTAINED! With each springy step, I took the world in as scent, and came to perhaps a closer understanding of why people engage in what I previously considered self-abuse. Our jog took us all the way back to the landmark mailbox, which has seen at least one baseball bat in its short nine months of perch; and I didn’t collapse.

I was so invigorated by this jaunt, I donned thermal layers and tested the flashlight at 7:00 the next evening – well after darkness had fallen.