Fork in the road.

“...And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh,

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I---

I took the the one less traveled by,

and that has made all the difference”

-Robert Frost. The Road Not Taken (1920)

The stifling humidity hung around my skin like a jacket this morning.  I almost turned back to the sanctity of the air conditioned home I was leaving.  But instead I chose not to look back, turned on my favorite running mix and began my warm up.  

Once I was sufficiently warm I started my timer, turned up the music, and settled in to my stride.  I began cruising down the street, the sweat already beading and rolling across my scalp.  A slight breeze kicked up in my face, I closed my eyes and upon breathing in the sticky sweet air a slight chill made my hair stand on end.  I realized today was going to be a good day.  

I got to the top of the first hill on my normal route and turned right, only to turn back and run left.  Time to blaze a new trail, try a new road...a route less traveled.  I found a quaint and quiet street near a church, the pipe organ blaring through the windows.  A man and his dog out on a morning stroll, followed by a friendly wave.  A yard blanketed in leaves of the wrong seasons colors and the smell of fall in the air already.    

I approached a crossroad, straight ahead looked flat, to the left NO OUTLET, and to the right a steep old hill.  I shrugged my shoulders and hung the right powering up the hill  and cresting it just as the music in my ears reached a dynamic crescendo.    My breathing was in tune, my stride was strong and I could tell, today was going to be a good day.  

The bead of sweat hung from my nose for a bit longer than a normal breath, dropping off silently upon exhale as I rounded the corner for the stride home.   I crested a hill, bounded around a corner and came across a friendly face that I see on almost every run.  An older man and his young dog on their morning walk around the block.  For the first time ever he didn't just wave, he yelled out, "Hey! How far are you going?"  All I could reply was "as far as my legs can take me!"  He smiled, waved, and went about his day. 

The final quarter mile was a blur as I opened my stride and paced my self in to home.  Powering hard down the sidewalk as if I was finishing a race where I was the only competitor.  Crossing the finish line that was really just a crosswalk in the street.  The only applause I heard was the rapid breathing from my mouth and the thumping of my heart.  

Today was a really good day.