Outside My Window

My office is located right next to a park and the view from my window includes a grassy area where people take their dogs, two little league baseball diamonds, and a portion of a dirt track that circles the park. I've got two trees that hummingbirds enjoy visiting, and a small window sill where small finches come to leave dropping and peck my window. And in moments like this one -- where I turn my head and see a Yellow Jacket trying to come through -- I'm actually relieved that the window does not open.

The window (and its associated view) is what I love most about my office, and also, what frustrates me about it.  I love seeing so many active people on the track. In the morning, I see small groups of people performing "boot camp" workouts. As a dog person, I enjoy seeing the variety of excited furry four-legged visitors. My view of the baseball diamonds isn't good enough for me to truly enjoy watching any games, but I feel like there's a world of constant motion outside of my window, and that always makes me smile. I love the colors (primarily browns and greens), but I also love the way the sun's angle subtly changes those colors. And I love watching people run -- noticing the variants in form, expression, speed, companionship, etc.

But it's also easy for me to now see the track as a reminder of what I'm no longer able to do...and of what I wish I had done more...did I hurt my hip because I ran on asphalt and concrete most of the time? If only I had trained here on this softer ground, would I still be running this evening? It's so easy to second guess and let myself feel sorry for myself. But it's sort of silly and self-centered of me. I'm so blessed. Today, I saw two hummingbirds hovering only a few feet away from me. I'm looking at a beautiful blue sky and branches blowing softly in the wind. I live an easy drive from some of the most beautiful places I've ever seen. And I WILL get back out there and enjoy it all. If I can't run, I'll walk. If I can't walk, I'll learn to ride.

And I'll use that track as my symbol of where I've been and of what I aspire to do.

A view through my window