Nothing and water

There was really nothing left. The fall darkness and cold weather had drained me for energy, light and "want". Coming home from work I was just an empty shell of nothing. The winters' and falls' biting weather and darkness really is evil.

I don't know where I found it, but somewhere in the nothingness I managed to find a tiny little "want" to work out. The seven minutes by car to the fitness centre looked like an eternity in my head, so even though it meant to actually have to enter the frosty fall evening, I aimed for a run with Atlas wrapt in warm clothing in the pram. The road from our kitchen table, via the walk in closet to get dressed for the run, to the front door was the worst, heaviest and really an awfully itchy thing to go through!

Starting to run, when I first managed to get out of the house, was so easy. Like ice cold water. When you're really thirsty there's nothing like it. You feel strangely alive after drinking it - and content. The freshness invigorates every part of your body, and even though you're so tired you're not sure you're body actually is there, under your head, you suddenly feel life tingle. First maybe, in a finger or toe, then, slowly spreading in towards the heart.

Entering the warmth of my house after the run, I found the want to write a little, light some candles, and maybe read a book. The shellness was suddenly gone, and instead there was this calm stream of peace filling the place - and the "want" for more water.