Thursday, November 27, 2014

2:29 PM
There is a run I do from my childhood home. A steep fire road winds up a ridge to intersect an early 1900s water delivery system (a flume) that has been constructed along a high contour. You can run on the aging wooden planks that straddle the flume; treading lightly as they sometimes buckle underneath your weight - suspended along the side of a mountain, running up-canyon, up-river, up-in-the-air.

This is the trail that the paragliders take, trudging up the mountain with their heavy packs before they launch off a cliff and circle weightless on the upwelling air currents.

On the ascent, the fire road criss-crosses a stream and passes by three waterfalls and many large, granite boulders. One of them, if you take the time and look at it from the right angle, resembles a heart.

I did this run yesterday after arriving "home" Tuesday night at 12:30 AM - shaking off the long drive and hectic week with an hour spent in these drought-parched hills that are turning green after a few days of sorely-needed rain and beneath a sky that pulsed with blueness.

I did it again today on Thanksgiving as a celebration of gratitude for this piece of paradise I call home; for the family I am blessed to spend this day and my life with; and for a healthy body and lungs that can carry me up this and other mountains.

Wishing the same blessings for everyone today, may you find peace, joy and a big heart wherever you go.

Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours!

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