My run this morning reminded me of lockdown, not a single car in sight, silence pervading.
As I set off, I became aware of a small number of birds singing. Not as many as in spring, but I was drawn to their cheeps and chirps, a nice distraction from my left leg beginning to ache.
Approaching a crossroads, I could hear the sound of a distant engine. Tuning into the rising and falling pitch of the car engine, I became curious as to which direction it was approaching from, how close it was.
Slap, slap, slap was the sound of my feet striking the road. I was quite taken aback by how flat-footed I am when I am jogging. Almost in an instant the slapping sound evaporated, curiosity brought my eyes down to my feet, still there! I realised that I was going uphill, now on the balls of my feet.
Air sucked in, air being pushed out, as it would’ve been by one of those ventilators in the old movies. The sound of my breathing had changed, the extra effort of going uphill had produced an automatic response from my lungs.
I had been captivated by this orchestra of sounds in what initially I thought was a silent morning. I guess sounds are around us all of the time, we just don’t notice them unless we choose to. It made me wonder what other sensual riches: sights, smells, tastes and even touch I overlook when my attention is distracted by the background chatter of the mind.