One Morning

Different year.  Different foot.  Same problem.

Here I am again.  Doctor visiting, foot taping, Ibuprofen popping, night splint wearing, sideline sitting and once again, waiting.  Waiting and hoping and praying that healing will be quick.  That this is just a minor setback and soon my feet will be adorned with my running shoes and pounding the pavement once again. 

I’ve sat out for one week now.  So minor in the grand scheme of things, right?  My head knows that, but my emotions. . . those are a different story.  I’d be lying if I said I’ve handled week one off with the maturity of. . . well, an adult.  Unfortunately, my childlike I want it and I want it now attitude has reared its ugly head as I berate my foot, my luck, and every runner who is able to run right now (sorry about that, Chad.) 

I am an early morning runner.  Six out of seven mornings you will find me with sweat pouring down my face as I log mile after mile. . . not because I have to, but because I want to.  I’ve talked about it often here. . . my love for running.  It’s like free therapy.  Now, when I wake up during the 5 o’clock hour I find myself lost.  No shoes, no pouring sweat, no endorphin rush. . . just waiting.

I’m not a good waiter. 

Today I had a plan. . . therapy comes in all different forms, right.  I decided to take things into my own hands.  I woke early and slipped out the door with my faithful little companion (aka: camera) before the sun hit the horizon.  I headed toward the place that I knew would give me a double dose of perspective. 

I walked among the abundant greens toward the place that would give me the perfect view.  I sat and I waited.  I wasn’t the only one.  As I looked around me and listened to the deafening silence, I noticed that this show wasn’t just for an audience of one.

It was as if we all had arrived at the same time in anticipation of the show.  In anticipation of the light stealing away the darkness.

And just as I’d anticipated it was worth the wait. . .

Like a flaming ball of fire I watched as the sun inched higher and higher into the sky illuminating every inch of my surroundings with a soft, beautiful light. 

I walked among the trees, and plants, and flowers and required myself to notice.  To notice the intricacy of nature.  To notice the perfection of the simple.  To notice the peace of the moment.  And while there was no sweat pouring or no running shoes pounding there was a different kind of rush.  The rush that comes with the understanding that life is so much bigger than a hurt foot.

As I walked amidst the beauty, the hot dry summer was evident.  Flowers seemed to be fighting for dear life and the thirst of the grass was evident.  It didn’t matter, though.  What was most prominent to me was the light.  The sun that had just peeked over the horizon was now sending its rays forth with such force it seemed the place was on fire. 

When I run, I often notice the big things.  The sun in the sky, the vast landscapes, the beautiful horizons.  Today, walking offered a different gift.  A varying view.  As I walked, I noticed the small things.  The minute details that I often miss during a run. 

Today, I didn’t miss any of it.  Today, I took in all the beautiful things that this place had to offer.  A bit over an hour later I climbed into my car with a feeling of complete contentment.  Somehow, the time spent in the morning light and peering through the lens of my camera did just what I’d hoped.  I left with the dose of perspective I needed.  I left knowing, hopefully longer than momentarily, that life is about so much more than I often make it out to be. 

That’s what I call a good morning.

The urge to create, the urge to photograph, comes in part from the deep desire to livewith more integrity, to live more in peace with the world, and possibly to help others to do the same.
Wynn Bullock

  • Sassytimes - July 19, 2012 - 1:13 pm

    I'm sorry about your foot. You are amazing though…to push through negativity and find peace in nature. Beautiful. Love all the photos.ReplyCancel

  • Ky • - July 19, 2012 - 11:21 pm

    Summer, my heart hurts when I hear about your foot crap. 🙁 I am so sorry.

    AND YOUR PHOTOGRAPHY, oh friend… oh, friend, it is has been truly awesome watching your love for photography grow. YOU, my friend, have a GIFT.ReplyCancel

  • Katie - July 20, 2012 - 11:56 pm

    Beautiful thoughts to go with beautiful photos. Hope your foot heals quickly—I know what it's like having to be forced to put running on the back burner, but the healing time is just as important, too. Good luck!ReplyCancel

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