Thanks to this glorious sunshine, this morning it felt warm enough for me to go for my first outdoor run of the year. (I know many runners who run outside year-round, but I'm a real wimp when it comes to cold so would rather take advantage of my Y membership and run inside in winter.) In spring I don't like to run plugged in to my iPod; I prefer to hear birdsong. It's a way of learning what birds have returned. I keep a tally in my head of all the species I hear or see on each outing, trying to top my previous run's count. This morning's total, accumulated while running from my house to the Y (a mere two miles), was eleven:
- goldfinch
- tufted titmouse
- cardinal
- song sparrow
- white-breasted nuthatch
- downy woodpecker
- Canada goose
- house finch
- grackle
- crow
- herring gull
Nothing unusual here, but this is just the beginning, just a baseline for the weeks ahead when the woods will once more resound with the renewing songs of birds, and my middle-aged body, fueled by the revitalizing vigor of the season, will push itself to run farther and farther.
My legs have more spring
as I run from bird to bird,
all of us revived.
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