That dog can move!

Yesterday, Zoey and I walked to the off leash park, 3 kilometres uphill, 7.35 kilometres return trip.  Zoey wears a harness as she tends to pull. The leash clips around my waist. We move fast.

I’d checked the weather app, the temperature was minus 13 celsius, with a windchill feel of minus 22, I dressed for minus 22. Snow pants, boots, tank top,  long-sleeved shirt, winter coat. Hat, scarf and mittens.

Trudging uphill through ankle-deep snow, the sun shining, the snow sparkling and Zoey taking every opportunity to throw herself face first into the snowbanks lining the path. It was AWESOME! It was warm.

Halfway up the hill the scarf comes off, then the mitts and the coat is unzipped. I’m sweating.

Four kilometres and we are at the park. I unclip Zoey and she starts running, fast. Then she screeches to a halt and throws herself down, rolling on her back in the snow, up again and repeat, and repeat. That dog can move!

That’s what her body is for, that is what our bodies are for, to move. To strain, to sweat, to feel energized by fresh air, by chill and by sun. It’s what our brains are for, our hearts. We are all made to move in some way.

When we die, let it be said that we moved; we moved our bodies, as best we could.  We moved our brains and our hearts. Let it be said we moved valiantly through this world.