The run was hard: first snowfall, slippery, breathe in the cold, deep, wake up all of the little villi lining the lungs, keep the legs under control, don’t fall, so much white, this 4 miles feels like 6, thank-you body each step.
She gets home with no injuries, but some very tired muscles and a cold nose. As a chill waves through her body, she turns the faucet all the way to the red then back into a little bit of the blue and pours some cheap hydrangea scented (but chemically created) body wash into the tub. The tubs fills with scalding water as she peels off the sweat soaked cloths that suddenly became very cold against her skin. The nakedness feels a bit warmer: book, towel, what else? nothing, just get in, stop stalling, feet first, go slow.
She brushes the water with a toe and smiles realizing that it’s not too late to add a bit more cold water, but knows she won’t as both feet plant solidly in the heat and she gasps: I can do this, I can do this, I need to do this.
Arms on either side of the tub, holding tight and controlling movement of her body as her legs had done only minutes before when jogging over ice, she lowers into the water and feels every cell burn when slowly touching the water, each inch below tingling from the heat and each inch above shivering in the cold air. She can feel it all, is aware of it all, is connected to every muscle controlling and every bit of skin reacting and filling with blood. As her back is allowed to descend, the distinct line between air and water travel up to her neck: slow down, feel it, feel the hair stand up, feel the pain, the relief, the sharp little spikes, the stings, the calmness of the feet and legs that have had time to acclimate, feel the heat again with every movement, move slow.
As she takes a deep warm breath and slips into the womb of the bathwater, she is very much alive.
~enjoy the journey~ 
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