Otero Junior College Chinook

Running and Poetry

It snowed that morning and it was perfect for a late afternoon run. The sky was patchy blues and grays, and the snow was soft in the 30 degree temperature.   Big flakes were drifting ever so slowly from scattered clouds. After a half mile of snow covered asphalt, I took my first steps onto my favorite trailhead.

This trail invites you to partake. It starts off downhill and weaves around the chollas, rabbit brush and junipers sprinkled about the landscape.   It leads through a small valley with rocky bluffs to the left and rolling hills to the right. The snowcapped Wet Mountains lay due west, straight ahead.

Stepping onto the trail is like stepping beyond a curtain. It is only a few blocks from houses, but these are hidden from view; so it looks and feels like you are a hundred miles into the wilderness. I have seen other runners and cyclists on the trail, but 9 out of 10 times, I’m alone.

Today’s run is one of the reasons I do this. I’m not just observing beauty from a distance. I’ve passed through a magic door and have become part of a living scene – one painted by the Master Painter.

As part of the magic, the Spirit, Mind, and Body are freed from their normal limitations. Running takes less effort, and there is a feeling of buoyancy. Gravity takes a rest. The snow covered trail enhances that feeling – like that of the first skier of the day on a foot of fresh powder.

The day was still and there was no sound except for that of each footstep. Not quite a squeak. Not quite a crunch.

I became aware of the sound of each foot as it stuck the fresh snow. There was a rhythm, like a drum of an Indian in a not too distant village. Suddenly a line from a Robert Frost poem popped in my head. “The only other sound’s the sweep of easy wind and downy flake.”

It is from Frost’s classic, “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening.” In the poem, the only other sound was the harness bells of the author’s horse. Mine was that of my running shoes striking the snow covered trail.