I wanted to stay in bed.
The alarm went off at 4:50 a.m., screaming at me to get my lazy butt out of bed and head to the gym. But the tickle in my throat yesterday turned into a full-fledged soreness overnight, and to put it plainly, I felt simply too sad and sorry for myself to get up.
Then I heard my therapist's voice in my head (as I often do...I joke to her that I thought she was supposed to be helping nuts like me get the voices OUT of my head), telling me: "Just get up. Doesn't matter how you feel. Just get up and move."
So I did. I pulled on shorts and a sweatshirt, grabbed Maggie's leash, and headed out for a trail walk. Not sure why I didn't head for a spin class or weightlifting circuit, but something seemed not-quite-right about exercising indoors when it was 50 degrees and cloudless, with the sun sliding up past the horizon.
We headed south on the trail, with Mags marking her territory and chasing after critters lower on the food chain than she, and I losing myself in my iPod tunage. After a mile or so, I switched off the music and listened to the sounds of nature -- birds chirping and chittering, the wet belch of a bullfrog, slight rustling of rabbits and squirrels in last year's leftover decaying leaves beneath the woodland trees. Then just as we rounded a bend, we came upon seven...LUCKY NUMBER SEVEN (I was paying attention)...deer grazing in a wetland area. I don't know much about deer, other than they play in traffic as if with a death wish, but I'm assuming a couple of them were mamas. Most looked small, like youngsters. And they all looked at me like I'd rudely interrupted their breakfast.
We just stood there, staring at each other, the deer and me. Nevermind Maggie, who was pulling against her leash like a puppy possessed. For several minutes, I just stayed there, motionless, expecting them to bound away, and they stayed in their spot, perhaps waiting for me to strike or shoot or whatever it is that big bad humans do to Bambi and his buddies.
I let them be. They let me watch. Then slowly, six of them meandered down a hill and out of view. The seventh stood tall and alert on a rise in the field and watched me as I turned around to walk back home. That seventh deer, keeping an eye out, watching over, a silent reminder of life -- what a treasure it is, how amazing it is, how cautious and dangerous and unexpected and beautiful. And fleeting.
The seventh wandered from view, as did Mags and I from it.
Funny how something drew me out of bed this morning.
Funny how...I don't believe in coincidences.
The alarm went off at 4:50 a.m., screaming at me to get my lazy butt out of bed and head to the gym. But the tickle in my throat yesterday turned into a full-fledged soreness overnight, and to put it plainly, I felt simply too sad and sorry for myself to get up.
Then I heard my therapist's voice in my head (as I often do...I joke to her that I thought she was supposed to be helping nuts like me get the voices OUT of my head), telling me: "Just get up. Doesn't matter how you feel. Just get up and move."
So I did. I pulled on shorts and a sweatshirt, grabbed Maggie's leash, and headed out for a trail walk. Not sure why I didn't head for a spin class or weightlifting circuit, but something seemed not-quite-right about exercising indoors when it was 50 degrees and cloudless, with the sun sliding up past the horizon.
We headed south on the trail, with Mags marking her territory and chasing after critters lower on the food chain than she, and I losing myself in my iPod tunage. After a mile or so, I switched off the music and listened to the sounds of nature -- birds chirping and chittering, the wet belch of a bullfrog, slight rustling of rabbits and squirrels in last year's leftover decaying leaves beneath the woodland trees. Then just as we rounded a bend, we came upon seven...LUCKY NUMBER SEVEN (I was paying attention)...deer grazing in a wetland area. I don't know much about deer, other than they play in traffic as if with a death wish, but I'm assuming a couple of them were mamas. Most looked small, like youngsters. And they all looked at me like I'd rudely interrupted their breakfast.
We just stood there, staring at each other, the deer and me. Nevermind Maggie, who was pulling against her leash like a puppy possessed. For several minutes, I just stayed there, motionless, expecting them to bound away, and they stayed in their spot, perhaps waiting for me to strike or shoot or whatever it is that big bad humans do to Bambi and his buddies.
I let them be. They let me watch. Then slowly, six of them meandered down a hill and out of view. The seventh stood tall and alert on a rise in the field and watched me as I turned around to walk back home. That seventh deer, keeping an eye out, watching over, a silent reminder of life -- what a treasure it is, how amazing it is, how cautious and dangerous and unexpected and beautiful. And fleeting.
The seventh wandered from view, as did Mags and I from it.
Funny how something drew me out of bed this morning.
Funny how...I don't believe in coincidences.
Comments