Dancing on the Stone Arch Bridge
Oct. 10th, 2006 03:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pegkerrI have been experiencing a sort of deep contentment lately. It feels even a little bit like it has been bordering on a sort of mania. I have been short on sleep the last two days, and I resorted to caffeine in the morning both days; perhaps that has something to do with it?
Three times a day, whenever I can manage it, I go out for a walk over the Stone Arch Bridge (fifteen minutes at mid-morning, a half hour at lunch, and fifteen minutes at mid-afternoon):
On the shorter walks, I go halfway across, turning around at the commemorative steel placard at the midpoint, and on the longer walks, I go all the way across and take a turn in the park on the other side before heading back. I take my iPod and earbuds and choose a podcast, or sometimes something fast and upbeat to encourage me to pick up the pace.
The sky has been gun-metal gray the last few days, but oddly, that has not had the least impact on my mood. Today, I chose Entrain's "Dancin' in the Light (Tarbosh)" and strode quickly down to the river as I always do, dodging the construction workers working around the old Whitney Hotel site. By time I had gotten to the river, I was fighting the urge to incorporate the rhythm of the drums in my walk. I stole a quick look behind me. No one was close by. What the heck.
I turned up the volume slightly, and started letting my hips really sway to the beat. Soon, I changed my pace, in time to the music: Step, step, step-hop-step, step, step, step-hop-step. Gulls wheeled over the surface of the water below me, and I felt a fierce joy well up in me, as if I could take off and fly with them, too. At the halfway point across the bridge, I was definitely dancing.
My blood felt carbonated in exhilaration. My step, step, step-hop-step became faster and faster, close to a run, as my heartbeat speeded up, and I threw my coat open, swinging my hands from side to side. I took deep, hungry gulps of the cold October air (almost too delicious to bear) as I looked up at the sky, laughing. At the end of the bridge again, I stopped to do some karate slow kicks: front kick, roundhouse, side kick.
I barely was able to keep myself from blowing a kiss to the construction workers on my way back.
My steps slowed a bit as I entered my building, but I still danced in the elevator until it stopped at my floor. I stepped off the elevator reluctantly, my cheeks red and, I'm sure, my eyes as brilliant as Elizabeth Bennett's.
The sway of my hips on the way back to my desk was utterly dangerous.
Three times a day, whenever I can manage it, I go out for a walk over the Stone Arch Bridge (fifteen minutes at mid-morning, a half hour at lunch, and fifteen minutes at mid-afternoon):
On the shorter walks, I go halfway across, turning around at the commemorative steel placard at the midpoint, and on the longer walks, I go all the way across and take a turn in the park on the other side before heading back. I take my iPod and earbuds and choose a podcast, or sometimes something fast and upbeat to encourage me to pick up the pace.
The sky has been gun-metal gray the last few days, but oddly, that has not had the least impact on my mood. Today, I chose Entrain's "Dancin' in the Light (Tarbosh)" and strode quickly down to the river as I always do, dodging the construction workers working around the old Whitney Hotel site. By time I had gotten to the river, I was fighting the urge to incorporate the rhythm of the drums in my walk. I stole a quick look behind me. No one was close by. What the heck.
I turned up the volume slightly, and started letting my hips really sway to the beat. Soon, I changed my pace, in time to the music: Step, step, step-hop-step, step, step, step-hop-step. Gulls wheeled over the surface of the water below me, and I felt a fierce joy well up in me, as if I could take off and fly with them, too. At the halfway point across the bridge, I was definitely dancing.
My blood felt carbonated in exhilaration. My step, step, step-hop-step became faster and faster, close to a run, as my heartbeat speeded up, and I threw my coat open, swinging my hands from side to side. I took deep, hungry gulps of the cold October air (almost too delicious to bear) as I looked up at the sky, laughing. At the end of the bridge again, I stopped to do some karate slow kicks: front kick, roundhouse, side kick.
I barely was able to keep myself from blowing a kiss to the construction workers on my way back.
My steps slowed a bit as I entered my building, but I still danced in the elevator until it stopped at my floor. I stepped off the elevator reluctantly, my cheeks red and, I'm sure, my eyes as brilliant as Elizabeth Bennett's.
The sway of my hips on the way back to my desk was utterly dangerous.
