Run Ahead

Whenever I am about to go for a run, I dread it.
The pain, the distance...
The First Step.
I put my running clothes on, trying to make
myself the most
comfortable I can be, otherwise I am going to want
to quit.  So I try not to give myself
any excuse to do that.

Once the shoes are on--
TIED TIGHT--
and the door is locked, I start walking.
My head is full of thoughts on this block-long
walk from my house to the corner, where
I see the running path, flanked by grass,
ahead of me,
inviting me,
willing me forward.

And I start.

Today, I had a burst of energy.
Maybe that's because I didn't have a lot
to eat, nothing weighing me down.
I darted down the path, almost
afraid I was going to run out
of steam at some point.  But I kept on
going,
running swiftly towards traffic,
dodging runners, cyclists, slow old people,
inconsiderate assholes who have their dogs
on a long leash, thus making it hard for me to
work my way around.

My head is up.
I am not looking at my feet.
This is surprising.
I am always looking down
At the ground
At my feet
At the painted path,
afraid to look up and see what's ahead of me.
Afraid to let people see my bright face,
the wind blowing in my hair as I cut
through.

I feel like I am running past things:
Trees, poles, houses, cars, dogs,
walking partners, scooters, street signs.

I feel like I am leaving things in my wake:
Trees, poles, houses, cars, dogs
walking partners, scooters, street signs...

other runners

memories

the past

voices

I not running towards anything in particular.
Street lights?
Forgive me.
Street lights.
The street lights help give me a bit of a push.
So does my breath.
HA.
HUH.
UH.

Or something in between.
The sound is hard.
The breath is full,
stretching my lungs past
their limits,
almost like I'm coming up
for air
even though
I am not
underwater.
But I am
pushing
pushing
pushing past
something.
The hard HA/HUH/UH
of my breathing
pushes
pushes
pushes propels
me forward.

I am running ahead.
Not in a race ahead
Akimbo?
Forward.

Go ahead.
Get ahead.
I am not in a race.
I am
just moving
ahead.
Like "ahead with the move."
I am
going for it.

I turn around.
Start walking.
Break time
(Until the next pole)

I can't believe it
I am not
stopping.
I can't believe it.

This is incredible.
I am
just moving
ahead.
I am
going forward
with my
plan.

Twenty years ago
I never looked
to the right
or to the
left
I
never saw
who was
faster or
slower
I just
went fast.
Ahead.

Running again
HA/HA/UH/HUH
that sound
is back
it means that i am
going forward again
akimbo
aja
hi-ya!
Maybe that's the sound
But harder.

There's no one in this race.
I am just running
fast and hard
feeling myself moving
through space
cutting through
space

I run fast
because I can because
I want to
because this is how
fast I can
go.  It's real fast.
I don't even need to know
my pace
because that means
having to show someone
to acknowledge
how good I did.

Then it's over.
I'm walking again--
heaving, sweaty.

The walk back is like
ice cold water.

I go inside and get some
ice cold water.
The water is better.
I cool down.

Look in the mirror.
Windblown hair
thinner face
clear eyes
focused
am I losing weight?
or is this deeper
than skin deep?
I look different
just by
running ahead,
the velocity of thinking differently.
In the blink of an eye,
a simple motion repeated
thousands of times
shrinks time
and changes me.  Like
nothing at all.