Being Breath

stories from the wilderness of everyday life

The Beauty of Being Wrong

This morning, I was 100% sure I was not going for a run.

I was 100% sure I was going back to bed after I got the kids on the bus.

It is the only time that I am 100% glad that I was 100% wrong.

 

It was a short run, punctuated by stops to take photos of the settling fog.  

 

On my way back into our neighborhood, a deer delicately trounced across the road - maybe 20 feet in front of me.  She paused, look at me, determined she had no interest nor fear, and kept on walking.  I smiled and did the same.

A few seconds later, I heard a noise on the other side of the road behind me.  When I stopped to look, I saw a large buck, his antlers fiercely reaching towards the sky, raising his head to catch my eye.  He glanced at me, then across the road to find what I can only assume was his mate...then back at me.

Neither of us seemed scared - just intrigued as to what the other was going to do.

I really wanted to get a photo of him, but I also wanted to just enjoy the brilliance of this moment.  I stopped my run-timer, and just sat down on the side of the road.  For nearly a minute (but what seemed like ten), we just watched one another.  I tried to act natural, but how natural can one look awkwardly splayed on the side of the road, headphones dangling from one ear, phone stealthily perched behind?

Eventually, he decided this (unnatural looking) being was a bit too odd, and started to walk back the other way.  I stayed a few more seconds on the road, and then headed home.

 

This morning, I released all of my plans and expectations.

(If I had planned to run, i would have talked myself out of it.  Too cold, too early, I was up too late last night, my back hurts too much.  If I had expected to run 3 miles or at race-pace, I would have disappointed myself, chosen not to stop to enjoy the fog, and come home worn out.)

I moved step-by-step.  I got shoes on.  I walked out the door.  I took a speedy step, and then another.  I ran through some times of discomfort, I paused and took a photo during other times.

I had memorable and soul-calming interactions with my four-legged neighbors.

 

And here I am now, typing.  I ran and awoke my body.  I paused, opened to, and connected with nature.  I awoke my spirit and cleared my mind.  If I'd set out to do this, I would have failed.

Instead, being 100% sure I wasn't going to, I simply took step after step -- trusting in the direction I was going.

 

Namaste.