My leg has a stress fracture.
It’s poetic, really. Life is stressful and my body replies with, “uh, huh. You’d better believe it.”
Besides the ugly black boot, the little fissure in my bone not a big deal. It just means that I have to move a little differently, take new paths, step carefully. And right now I’m welcoming anything that cracks my heart wide open.
Because I can’t run, I’ve been riding my ancient bike up the canyon, gasping for oxygen and literally praying myself to the end of the road. Just minutes from my house, Millcreek Canyon is one of God’s brightest gems. I run the trails several days a week and every single time (my friends will attest to this) I say out loud, “I can’t believe I live here. I can’t believe how beautiful it is!” My photographer brain constantly searches for the perfect vista to display Millcreek’s beauty, but I can’t find it. You simply have to throw your arms out wide, spin wildly and breathe in the smell of leaves and wood smoke and dust rising from the trail.
Eons ago, this glorious canyon began as a crack, a tiny fracture in the massive Wasatch range. Water and earthquakes and time formed massive granite walls, a meandering stream, paths for wildlife and fertile soil for trees and moss and wildflowers.
Mountain peaks are wonderful, but they are just so lofty and reserved for the fit and able. But canyons! Canyons welcome bird nests and babies and boardwalks for wheelchairs. They offer easy hikes and firepits and slow down enough for moss to grow on rocks and trees.
Before, I wanted to be a mountain– rising above all others. But now I want to be a canyon. Here is my heart, come in.
Yes, there are too many photos of Mary. But goodness– that outfit!– how can I resist?
Really, I shouldn’t allow such behavior on my pretty blog. Note the matching Converse.