It was a beautiful fall day. You know the kind: where the air tastes sweet with sun-baked pine and the wind turns the fallen leaves in orange eddies around your ankles.
I was walking. Nowhere special. I remember concrete and traffic. A strip mall, Value Village and a greasy brown bag full of hot samosas.
But despite the ordinary, the day was bright and clear. My heart swelled with joy. I played with my steps, skipping over the cracks and I thought:
Life is worth living for the feel of pavement beneath my boots.
Years turned, seasons changed. It’s so easy to forget a single moment of pleasure.
Two months ago I had a stomach ache. I ended up in emergency with severe internal bleeding. I'd been taking ibprophin to reduce swelling in my knees whenever I ran, and it had eaten a hole through my small intestine.
That was August. Now it is November. I’m still recovering, but my doctor has just cleared me to start some light exersice again.
I can't run fast. I can run far. My knees swell and ache. I take it slow and understand I won't be running a marathon anytime soon.
But it is fall and the air is sweet.
And today I remembered that moment.
That it’s not about how far, how high or how fast, but rather the pleasure of
one happy step after another
on a crisp and clear fall day.
:)
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