Exhilaration in Nature
But what happens when all of that is taken away?
The next day, I could not walk. And for a reason that still remains mysterious, I was diagnosed with a stress fracture of the left fibula — an almost-complete break. Peering over his thick glasses, the doctor locked his brown eyes with mine and said authoritatively, “Lucien, you must not run for at least eight weeks, maybe twelve. If you try to run before this fracture has healed, the bone will break fully, and we might be looking at three to six months without running instead. I am so sorry.”
From February to April, the snows blanketed and thawed. And slowly, I began to walk a wobbly quarter-mile, a half-mile, a mile on the trails where only a few months prior I had run twenty or more with ease.
Even now, my leg fully healed and each week withstanding fifty to eighty miles of running as I prepare for the coming race season and long warm days, I make time to walk, to notice, to stay still and be. I come away from these slower meditations with at least as much joy as from a full day’s run.
Exhilaration in nature is everywhere, for us to find at every speed. And if you are ever in Northern Colorado and see a runner stop to admire a small flower or distant view, come say hello — I’d be glad to walk a mile with you, and see just how much we can discover.
Read Lucien's poetry at www.lucienmeadows.com.