The Realization

Joints ached and popped with the too-sudden start that generally results from being in a hurry.

The hectic outset predictably devolved into a rough, awkward, disjointed run, punctuated by needless near-misses with rolled ankles and labored breathing unwarranted for such a trifling pace.  The humor of the situation didn't really present itself until after the second or third instance of a mental breakdown almost being caused by fully law-abiding drivers calmly passing by.

I just had to laugh.  It was ludicrous.  With only a short run left and hours before any obligations, I only had myself to blame for any consternation, and upon very brief further examination, any stress in the moment was simply a fabrication of my pointlessly hurried mind.

This run, as are many others, was explicitly intended to be a carefree and relaxing time, a bright spot in the day.

But this run, as are many others, had been sullied by the rest of the day's concerns forcing their way into its mental sanctuary, and consequently manifesting themselves in a very physical way.

Every now and then, we've just got to step back and realize the ridiculousness of our own self-imposed dire straights.  With this realization often comes the grace required to allow for those runs that we so often wish we could convey to others, but for which we have no words.

At least in this case, the realization predictably evolved into a smooth, collected, rhythmic run, punctuated by subtle delights and hidden nuances inherent with such pastime.