Running thoughts: hospitality, humility and humidity

I really thought that here on the first Wednesday of October, I’d be waxing poetic about the joys of autumn, like the fabulous pumpkin chai I recently discovered at Caribou Coffee. (It’s really awesome, and if you like pumpkin or chai, you’ve gotta try it.)

Instead of writing about the delightful fall, though, I find myself astonishingly grateful for air-conditioning and an order from my doctor to take a week off from running. After all, a run right now would be more like swimming, only without the refreshing water part.

Many of us southern runners love autumn because it lacks the main summertime ingredient that causes us to struggle: humidity. We’ve survived the awful stuff all summer, and in many cases, fall is the time of year that we ramp back up with our running. We can add in more miles and even change up the time of day we run, simply because we’re no longer trying to dodge suffocating heat and humidity. But this week has felt more like late August or early September. Yesterday was so humid outside that the windows of my house fogged up (from the outside). With the start of fall, I thought I was done with tracking sweaty footprints across the floors, not to mention the drenched shoes and running clothes.

While out with my dog this morning, I found the humidity to be overwhelming. So I tried to turn my thoughts to a topic I’ve been working out for my most recent book chapter: hospitality. Do you mind if I revisit the topic? Continue reading

Delicious fall

Fall starts here in the States on Saturday, and I can’t wait! I had a brief conversation with a friend of a friend this past weekend, and he was bemoaning the end of summer. He’s a teacher, and so that might explain part of it, but he’s cold-natured, too, and so that’s another reason he prefers summer to fall. He couldn’t quite understand why I was so giddy about the upcoming season of crunching leaves, pumpkins, hot cider, sweater-and-jeans weather and the smell of evening fires.

Now I know not all of you reading this are heading into autumn (I’m thinking of my Aussie and Kiwi friends particularly who are bidding winter goodbye), but I expect there are beautiful changes in nature poised to happen wherever you live.

This week, the comic strip Mutts is paying tribute to the joys of autumn. I especially love the quote from yesterday’s strip: “Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower.” (Albert Camus)

Every leaf a flower

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God’s palette

“Aren’t you the one who’s supposed to be keeping a gratitude journal?” asked my dear friend on Sunday night. Yep, she was chiding me for a generally cranky attitude I had brought along for one of our rare and treasured coffee dates.

She was right to remind me that I needed to look for the positives in a situation that has me struggling. I’m not one who adapts quickly to change, and so when my husband’s work travel increased exponentially a few weeks ago, I began struggling to accept what will become the new reality of our life together. But instead of focusing on the positives, I was too busy pouting because I felt like someone pulled a rug out from under me.

So this week, I’ve dug deeper to add to my gratitude journal and to change my mindset, and I cannot help but see God’s blessings all around me. One of my favorite blessings is God’s palette in November. And so yesterday, I got out and took some pictures to share with you — pictures that may help explain why Autumn is my favorite season:

Yesterday’s lunchtime view

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The blazing in of autumn

For those of you who have followed me through the change of seasons, you may remember that I don’t totally love summer, despite its gardening wonders, bountiful fruit and golden lining. But autumn? Quite simply … I love it.

Here’s just one of the reasons why:

A favorite tree at one of my favorite spots in the whole world.
Do you know where this is?

All of summer’s lovely flowers can’t come close to the stirring of my soul when I look on this tree in fall. It’s as if I’ve held my breath to survive the heat and humidity and mosquitoes of summer and, when I see the promise of this tree, I can finally let the breath go.  Continue reading