In the old days, my old days, I’d wake up and go running. No time for a warm-up. Later, when I was raising young children, I’d run whenever I could find the time. Now I have to a freer schedule, and could theoretically hop out of bed and into the great outdoors. Only now I coax whatever I can from my brain before coaxing whatever I can from my body.

Still, it’s the odd day that finds me house-bound until evening. Yesterday was one of them. A cold rain fell from morning to late afternoon, and when I left the house at 7 for a meeting I was struck by the difference between outside and in — struck, I should say, all over again, since that difference is one of the reasons I walk in the first place.

What is it about stepping outside that immediately puts matters into perspective? Being under a big sky, open to the elements? The smell of the air? That’s what I noticed last night: the freshness of the air and the sounds of sparrows roosting for the night. It was only a few minutes out of doors, just long enough to climb into my car and drive away. But it was enough.