Well, it wasn’t exactly a typical first-day-of-spring-break-sleeping-in kind of day, but it was pretty spectacular, nonetheless. My alarm went off at 5:30, and I blearily grabbed my Camelback and a Clif bar and hit the road.
Starting in the dark, I set off to climb Mt. Garfield, which I’ve done a number of times before, each time equally difficult. It’s one of those hikes that begins with a steep uphill—and by steep, I mean really steep. With my calf muscles burning and my heart pounding, I stopped partway up the first stretch and looked behind me. The whole valley spread out below, with just the slightest tinge of dawn lighting the fields and the river. What beauty!
Then, back to the trail. More burning muscles. One foot after another, higher and higher. Each time I took a sip of water and turned to see the view, it looked different—the play of shadows and light, the contrast of colors, a different perspective.
After being sick yesterday, I wasn’t pushing it too hard (no running uphill this time!), but I still made it up to see the sunrise. As the sun peeked over the Grand Mesa, it made its way into the crevices and cracks, lighting the land and warming me (slightly).
Just like the sunrise makes everything appear fresh and new, the dawn of each day gives us a fresh start, a new canvas on which to paint as we want. I wonder how my days would change if I stopped to watch the sunrise and think about all of the possibilities of the new day. What new perspectives would I find? What new opportunities would I discover? What new insights would I gain?
And then I ran down, relishing the breeze against my skin and the sun against my face.
It’s a new day.
Thanks to Stacey, Anna, Beth, Tara, Dana, and Betsy at Two Writing Teachers for creating a place for writers to share their work and hosting the March Slice of Life Story Challenge!