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Tuscaloosa, Alabama

When you see the Southern Cross for the first time,
you understand now why you came this way.
Cause the truth you might be running from is so small.
But it’s as big as the promise, the promise of a coming day.

Morning found me running, as usual. Two hours of sleep, two cups of coffee, a two-hour ribbon of blacktop winding south towards Linden in the middle of the state.

It took a long time for me to find it this time. I usually feel the peace creep over me almost as soon as I cross the line into Greene County. But Greene County came and went and I was still in a defiant knot, grinding my teeth and growling to myself. Road construction and a courthouse renovation didn’t help.

By the time I left Marengo County headed back towards Tuscaloosa, I was beginning to think the day was just a lost cause. On a whim, I took the return route back through Thomaston, through the flat farmlands of the Black Belt, past the lush green fields and rolling hills that rise to meet endless blue skies.

I don’t know what draws me to this route. It seems to be my own personal version of true north — aligning my vision, marrying spirit and flesh into pure, unblemished soul. There is an answer here somewhere. I feel certain of that.

Music: Southern Cross by Jimmy Buffett (lyrics)

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