report II.

It is what I have come to know as close to perfection: A drowsy sunday morning, come rain or come shine cause the program will be the same. A long slow jog starting out on driving roads before taking a right into the forest. Running along the broad forest roads which turns more and more narrow, the ground completely covered in hvitveis on all sides, these small white spring flowers, untill you take a small path to the right, down some rocks and then you are by the little lake. An official break there, which today was a moment of I don’t know what: A completely mirror still lake surrounded by trees in fresh spring green and orange, with a little stream throwing it’s waterdrops like a white foamy fall of water down behind a little half island in the lake, with again the little white flowers and fresh grass, reflecting itself in the lake, so calm&cliché& inspiring. Then, continuing: running between trees and following the little path which suddenly slopes downwards, still swirling between the trees, so that you are nearly falling and slipping on branches, the eyes so focused on the ground beneath and your own coordination, your breath so uncomfortably loud and interrupting in the sleepy forest (that’s a motivation for getting in better shape, running silently!), untill you’re suddenly running straight forward and you look up and stop: the fjord is there, right in front of you, open and silvery in the morning light.

You’re standing on rocks foundations, made smooth by years of wind, waves and rain, and the sky is fresh above you, the wind soft in it’s motion across the salty water and your own sweaty forehead.

Then, a morning swim in the silvery fjord, horrible in the beginning and heaven in the end, before you walk awakened and refreshed back to the cottage for a long breakfast – with lots of coffee.