Early morning, the air is still but the bike paths and sidewalks already busy, everyone trying to get a moment in the sun before it turns into a swelter. You lace your shoes and turn up the canyon, legs aching to burn, lungs longing for the clarity that only comes at the end of a run. It's been decades, and you never tire of this feeling. Have found no drugs to beat the soar of this cleanse.
The canyon is quiet as you enter, ancient cliffsides towering over you with little shade to offer. Lizards scurry where you run, the odd pedestrian offering a friendly hello but in your mind you are elsewhere. Last night, we climbed to the top of a petrified sand dune to watch the eons unfold beneath us, the awe of a million years like a comforting blanket around us as the sun set. On the page, a little girl discovers the magic of a new world and you think, that's exactly how it is. You feel again that responsibility to bring her into this one, to make something of all of these ideas.
Remember again who you are
and what you came here to do.
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