It has happened. I am going for a run today. Unbelievable, I know. I can see the look on your face, though I haven't seen you or that look in ages. It is a cold morning and before I curl back into my slumber I take a few minutes off and remember the trees and fog rolling over a black road.
And you. Exasperated. Just till that tree, and then you can rest you tell me. Hands on my knees, I see the road fractured between my hair. I see your impatient legs. I turn my neck to see your radiant self against the blue sky.
I loved to watch you run. Even when the air would run out of my lungs, and my own words would be inaudible to me between the pants , I would keep on just to see you flushed, your long hair against the wind. Thinking, god I'm not made for this. Perhaps for you, but not this. And drag myself on somehow.
You on your part, never ran ahead of me. Never disappeared round the corner. Trees from trees you would stay, spot jogging, running in circles. Lovingly letting me catch up with you. Just till that tree, you would urge. One more tree. Just that one. No, no not this one. The one behind this one. And on and on. On cold mornings such as this.
* * *
Running on a dusty road with strangers and friends it's you I think of. There are no trees. Only buildings. Hoots and dust. I am surprised at myself. To see myself run at a running event under a full sun. There are no trees. There is no you. So I tell myself, just till that tree, imagining invisible trees on this lonely sidewalk. I run. I run. And I am running. Away from the one that ran ahead. Steadily. And disappeared into nothingness. I run. From memories of trees and of cold mornings. Of the impatient eyes and the circles of love. Someone thrusts a flag into my hands. I am leading the crowd now. I join the hooters and drown the sound of my fluttering heart. I raise my voice I stamp hard on the ground and I tell myself, this is where I am now. I am torn between places and timelines. Between old strangers and new friends. I am running. Every moment. From moment to moment. Chore to chore. Cycles of Mondays to Sundays and Mondays again.
You on your part, never ran ahead of me. Never disappeared round the corner. Trees from trees you would stay, spot jogging, running in circles. Lovingly letting me catch up with you. Just till that tree, you would urge. One more tree. Just that one. No, no not this one. The one behind this one. And on and on. On cold mornings such as this.
* * *
Running on a dusty road with strangers and friends it's you I think of. There are no trees. Only buildings. Hoots and dust. I am surprised at myself. To see myself run at a running event under a full sun. There are no trees. There is no you. So I tell myself, just till that tree, imagining invisible trees on this lonely sidewalk. I run. I run. And I am running. Away from the one that ran ahead. Steadily. And disappeared into nothingness. I run. From memories of trees and of cold mornings. Of the impatient eyes and the circles of love. Someone thrusts a flag into my hands. I am leading the crowd now. I join the hooters and drown the sound of my fluttering heart. I raise my voice I stamp hard on the ground and I tell myself, this is where I am now. I am torn between places and timelines. Between old strangers and new friends. I am running. Every moment. From moment to moment. Chore to chore. Cycles of Mondays to Sundays and Mondays again.
There are no trees. Anymore. But there are days, there are things to be done, lessons to be studied, promises to be kept. There are hopes I can't crush, people counting on me. People who chose to stay, when you didn't. So I have to run. I have to reach that tree before I give up. Stay alive one more day. One day at a time. Before I give up.
I am panting. I bend down and see my own shadow. I feel the blood run through me. The sun in my eyes. Sweat on my back. I think of you, you would have been so proud. I smile. The heart is flying. Mid fall the heart grows wings, the soul sings, the spirit soars. I run. As fast as I can. And this time, I know I am breaking free.
