Back in Iowa, after four days in Minnesota.

A run with Charlie this morning. I was thinking of these days on the road, reminded of the stage in a marathon when all senses become focused on the running. I’ve run three marathons: Jericho, Boston, and Nashville Country Music Marathon. At the start of each, the first seven or eight miles, I talk with other racers, take in scenery, buildings, people, music. However, by the tenth mile the focus narrows, voices dim, including the one in my head, and there is just listening to the breathing, feeling legs and arms moving and feet striking the road. After three weeks on the road, I’ve hit a stride. Every leaving is an arrival is a leaving is an arrival. There is conservation of energy. During events, answers to questions have become more concise. Between events I am quiet and sometimes at a loss when asked simple questions. How do I like Iowa? ” I like it. The sky is so big here it’s part of the landscape.” ???? I call friends and family to stay connected and to hear their voices, however, I don’t have much to say. “It’s gotten cold here in Minnesota.” Most days, Charlie and I go for long walks. He keeps his nose to the ground and stops often to linger on a smell. I can get impatient, wanting us to keep moving. Yet later, when I am unsure of the way back to where we started, he turns us in the right direction.

In a couple hours, I will be heading to Ankeny and then to a library event in Ames. Tomorrow another library and, in the evening, an Islamic Center in Des Moines.