Confession

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I don't run with music.

There.  I've said it.  No, I don't have an uplifting playlist that gets me through my tempo run.  And I don't plug one ear into my ipod while tackling the climbs on Usery or Las Sendas.  I don't even particularly like the music they play at the hot yoga studio I've been going to lately.

Don't get me wrong, I DO love music.  I love it's power and beauty, it's beat.  I know it's what helped me get my marathon PR last year.  I put my ear buds in and turned up the most heart-pounding, invigorating tunes I could find.  I drowned out my overwhelmingly loud breathing and focused on the Best of Glee.   I set my play list to have Lenny Kravitz's American Woman push me across the finish line.  Yes, I do love the power of music.

But these days, the silence is what I prefer.  Everything on mute.  I ride and hike mostly with friends.  And we talk.  And laugh.  And breathe.  But there are also moments of reticence, spaces of reflection, stillness of mind.

Not to get too churchy, but there is a scripture that says "Be still.  And know that I am God."

Mostly in life, I am not still.  I like getting up and getting going.  I like loud music in the car.  I prefer jumping on my bike to sitting in a movie.  I love diving into a pool to swim my laps with Masters and moving through the water.

Stillness, however, is a gift to myself.  Stillness of mind and body.  Reflection. Quiet. Peace.  I love that I can unclutter my mind while climbing in the canyon, or chasing the group on my bike.

Music will always be there for me.

But today, I choose to be still.