Join me for a Run

Last week I was experiencing some all-natural highs.  I love those!  The endorphins pump through your body and everything makes sense. Sunlight catches windows, they shimmer, then leaves and shades of green suddenly become gifts.  Sweat drips off your forehead, you wipe it with your hand, then whip off your fingers sling shotting it back to the ground who gave it to you in the first place.  You breathe in power, and you breathe out fear.  You breathe in vitality, and you breathe out regret.  You breathe in purpose and you breathe out doubt. 

Come run with me.

We start out in Copoacabana on Bulhoes de Carvalho, a street in between Copacabana beach and Ipanema Beach.  At the end of the street there is always a police car.  I still don’t know what the police do here in Rio (this is another post entirely), but I try to make myself believe that these were good people.  I breath out judgement and I breathe in hope.  We cruise down Barrao de Torre and turn up Farme De Amoeda on our way to the lagoa (lagoon).  I listen to Ryan Farish and sorry; I am not much of a talker when I run.  We pass Nancy and Danny’s old apartment on Nacimento da Silva.  I think of two friends and I image Nancy in Switzerland.  I smile.  I think of Danny in Belgium getting ready for a visit home.  I smile.

My steps are calculated and I know better than to become distracted.  When I run, I feel my body move, I invite the breeze to dance on my skin, I let the sun kiss my shoulders, and I let salt seep into my taste buds.  I choose carefully as to what is allowed to enter my head, ditching any extra weight; I choose to travel light when I run.  

We stop at the lights to cross the street, and when we get on the Lagoa we turn the left and start following the bike path.  We keep to the right.  I think of Meg McEwen and how here little legs went so fast at the Peach Bud 10k; too fast for me.  I think of her first triathlon this summer and wish I could have seen her cross the finish line.  I imagine the picture of her in a wetsuit and I think about how cool it would be to do Ironman 70.3 Mt. Tremblant with her.  I smile.  We pass a dude with earphones in and give him a “thumbs up” when we pass him.  I pass the rowing center and think of why I never took up rowing.  I wonder how people get involved, then I smile, because I can answer my own question.  They get involved, by getting involved.

We come to lights and need to cross the street.  Bob Marley sings for me. 

We pass Jardim Botanico (The Botanical Gardens) and run along the back gate.  We glimpse at the garden, but concentrate on the weathered sidewalk.  At the leafless tree on the corner, we start to climb.  As we pass the gates into the park, we nod at the guards.  We still don’t know what they are doing there.  Bob Dylan, “The times are a Changin” fills my running shoes.  You know the ones.

The Tijuca forest is the largest urban forest in the world.  When slicing up the roads, we feel cocooned in green; shielded in emerald and sharing with few.  As we pass the first waterfall, we brace ourselves for the hill ahead.  It’s a steeper grade than what we were just running, but we like the burn.  As we round the corner, we breathe in the mountain air.  Fresh. 

As if to ask the universe for a favor, we think it would be so nice to see a blue morpho butterfly; a little visit from my mom.  Just in case, I decide to turn my camera on.  Not a second later a sparkle of bright blue catches my eye and there she is, fluttering her wings as she floats on by.  Maybe this is where I get it from.  She absolutely refuses to stop and pose as I fiddle with my Iphone.  My fingers hit the wrong icons and the camera is suddenly just a few seconds too late.

She wisps on into the trees waving so long and leaves me full hearted.  I smile.  We run the switchbacks all the way to the top, and then I smile as I see Vista Chinesa.   I remember China (my friend) and think of her planning her January wedding.  This place is almost as beautiful as she is.   This might be my favorite spot in Rio; it has been, a private climb for years; my own secret path (until now).

I choose to bother some strangers and ask for a picture.  Of course, it wasn’t a bother at all.  I breathe out the lie that I am a pain in the ass, and I breathe in a new way of being, which is of interdependency.  I like this picture, and I couldn’t have taken it alone.  I take a family portrait for them.

Running down is not as much fun as running up, though it’s faster.  We stop for a gatorade and chug the whole bottle.  We retrace our steps over the back of the botanical gardens and re-salut the lagoa.  Johnny Cash rings me in.  I think of my brother Dave and am impressed with how well he plays the 12 string.  I love hearing him play.  I smile.

I smile to everyone I pass on the lagoa.  We discover a new statue that has been added to the water.  We like it.

 Manu Chao sings to my hip flexors as I start to re-enter the streets and make my way home.  My legs are stiff, but I smile. With a few lasts strides, we break it down to a walk, and sigh loudly.  That sigh says, "I am relieved, empowered, I appreciate my health and nature, and oh the places my legs can take me."  There will come a day when our legs will not take us on a 23km run; today is not that day.

Thanks for joining me!

Peace, love and ice,
Di.