Idle and Blessed

**Preface/caveat: if you are a human who thinks I can only write about running or theology, this will reinforce your suspicion. Please bear with me.

It has been a really, really long winter. Yesterday it was 81 degrees at 2:50pm as I started jogging down a portion of the Atlanta Belt Line I stumbled upon a few days ago. Unsure of where it led, I ran along this little paved road as it twisted and turned through Candler Park, then Freedom Park, and Little 5 Points. The sun was the brightest it has ever been, like it suddenly bent down low toward planet earth and took a bow. The bradford pears and the cherry blossoms clapped their hands and small pink petals swirled like confetti as I ran over cobblestone paths below. Heat came from the air, the sky, the ground, my lungs. I got a little sunburned. All of the masses of hipster East Atlanta emerged along with me, nodding as I passed at a pace as quick as my heartbeat. The downtown skyline was visible over my left shoulder once, but it was the small yellow daffodils that stole the show. Cyclists whizzed past me (they really do have those here, I found), and kids climbed all over t...