Square One

The crisp air pulled at his jacket. Weeks of inactivity had resulted in a creeping softness in dealing with the outside air temperature. Back in January before the injury, he would have welcomed the 53 degree weather which, at the time, would have felt like a warm tropical breeze. Lethargy had erased that perspective, and the breezy gusts of air pushed into his skin with a damp chill that made him question his fortitude.

The old girl of the waterfront still stood the watch as the sun cracked over the horizon like an oozing egg yolk.

Old Girl of the waterfront at sunrise

She hadn't seen this walker for awhile, but the scene had passed in front of her bow more than once over the previous three decades. Returning from an injury, the first tentative steps betrayed the lack of confidence in the healing that had been happening during the walker's absence. Stepping out, his gait wasn't quite right. Not so much limp as awkward rolling strides manifesting the doubt in the foot. Would the bone crack? Would the ligament pull away? A tentative slowness ruled the day.

As the steps rolled on, some level of confidence returned. His senses became more in tune with the air and the trail. A little more than halfway out, he crossed a bridge.

Crossing the bridge back into the land of routine - Yards Park, DC

The pop didn't happen. The fire didn't return. The breeze scoured away a bit of the softness and the nerves in his hands and legs began the process of settling in to a more natural state. Action, as it always does, exfoliated the discomfort and pushed a bit of toughness back into his core.

The world was there for exploring. The color began to return.

A new adventure in Yards Park

He'd slowed down quite a bit. His thirst for distance and pace had yet to reawaken, but the first steps out from square one had been taken. Another day had passed into the books, and a new one was just over the horizon.