It is a gorgeous day in Atlanta. The sun has full reign of the sky and yet the temperature will only manage to climb to around 80 today. Perfect.
Being the creature of comfort that I am, that is still about ten degrees too warm for ideal outdoor jogging.
Which is why I love shade. There's this great two-mile stretch of road that ambles through a neighborhood of grand houses with shade trees older than my grandma. They hover over the sidewalk so when I run there, I only have to dart through the occasional patch of direct sunlight.
How great is that? And it's even better because I missed the I-love-exercise gene. I think endorphins are a myth. They don't even sound real.
However, between my superpath, my iPod and a little gumption scraped from the bottom of the will-power barrel, I'm confident I'll make it out today for an hour. And I'm confident I'll be glad I did. (I did get the I-love-being-done-with-exercise gene.) Not that I couldn't hit up the gym and run in place at a predetermined speed, but there's just something so much more lively about running in the great outdoors as God intended (except, he probably intended it to be done barefoot.)
So, thank you, God, for thinking up the sun and thinking up the concept of shelter from it. For whoever planted the old trees back in the day when coffee was a nickel, and for that mixture of power and peace that comes when I get back to my car at the end of a run.