This past week has been a bit on the trying side and I don't know about you, but when I feel overwhelmed the first thing I want to do is escape. I want to leave my problems right where they are and hide out in a lush countryside where people raise sheep for a living and gather fresh eggs for breakfast. Or maybe some tropical island where eating mangoes all day is quite a respectable profession. Instead, I'm stuck here with this (*points to temporarily rough life*).Once I reached my starting point along the dry reservoir, I peeked through the wire and checked out my intended destination: the park at the other end of the basin. You can do that, I told myself and off I went. Slowly at first...actually slowly throughout; I didn't want to wear myself out on the first try. "You just need to get to that bus stop" soon became "Now to that tree over there." Although I thought I'd start going over all the issues currently on my plate, only one word kept running through my head: breathebreathebreathebreathe. As each foot hit the pavement, I breathed in deeply, through my nose, through my mouth, to offset the feeling that my lungs would surely collapse any minute now. And just when I was about to give in, I reached Fort Independence Park.
I plopped down on the nearest bench, my heart racing and my lungs screaming for air. I can't say that I felt elated, accomplished or as if I just completed my tiny version of the New York City Marathon. I just...was. So I sat, stretched and stared out onto the reservoir until I decided it was time to go. Run or walk back? Run, I decided. You've already done this before. So I started back home on the tree-lined street. Step, step, breathe, breathe. No fruits grow here, the air is noisy and the grass is patchy and dull, but this is what I have right now.