Each morning, each day, each beginning of a year, can feel pretty much the same as the one that came before. You open your eyes, you drink some water, you brush your teeth, you go to the bathroom. If you’re a morning runner (like I am) you might have your clothes laid out (which, in one of my few nods to organization, I do). You put them on and you go (or first you stall, which is what I do).
But of course not every morning or day or year is the same, which is comforting and scary; it’s what gets us up and gets us giddy and gets us peering into the future wondering what the next minute or hour or day or year will bring.
No telling how anything will turn out. A run that starts strong may end up faltering. Those with clumsy first steps — I’m planning to go SIX MILES?! Yeah, right! — turn out to be among the smoothest and swiftest.
How will it all turn out? The next hour, the next day, the next year? The sky can’t tell us, but it can give hints — blue and gray and white striped reminders that life is a beautifully unpredictable layering of joy and sorrow, of giggles and groans, of magic and the mundane.
So for wonder, for possibility, for — on this first day of 2016 — the anticipation of each and moment, The Grateful Runner says thank you.