Running for the birds

I set out on the Feltham Trail, my breath visible in the crisp morning air, the snow muffling my footsteps as I ran for the birds—my own quiet offering to the avian kingdom. Passing Bow Pond, then Kings Pond, I slowed to watch a cluster of ducks paddling through a half-frozen patch of water, their quiet persistence a mirror to my own steady pace. A handful of barley and oats from my pocket scattered onto the snow, an act of small kindness, an instant karma exchange between runner and wildlife. The humanitarian run felt more symbolic than physical now, each step carrying the weight of purpose beyond mere miles. As I reached my goal, the hush of winter wrapped around me, and I knew—like the birds, like the trail itself—I was exactly where I was meant to be.