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21 December 2007 @ 09:17 pm
Run  

Enjoy.  Comment.  Please.  <33

You step outside and are hit by a brick wall. The heat is unbearable despite the darkening sky. You walk to the edge of the road, blinded by headlights as you look both ways. The way clear, you step onto the pavement, cross, and stop. Your abdomen is tight in anticipation of what comes next.
You want this.


As you reach the corner, the burn starts in your lungs. But you ignore it, knowing it will soon fade away. Instead, you focus, matching each breath to the pace your feet set. You turn and ignore the sidewalk, tracing the white line painted down the side of the road.


You feel the beginnings of a cramp in your side and shoulder. A smile plays at the corners of your lips as you delight in the prospect.


You run until your legs are lead and your lungs are screaming for oxygen. You run until you feel you can't run any further. So you stop, turn around, take a deep breath. Your fists clench and unclench. You're ready.


You take off again, lead legs moving faster, harder than before. You're exhausted, but you push it. Harder, faster, harder, faster. You reach race pace and hold it. The pain in your hip becomes apparent. The right hip this time. A silly grin spreads across your face. You know you're pushing too hard, too far.

Before you know what's happening, you pass his house. Forgetting your pain, you begin to wonder. Which room was his? Which windows don't light up at night anymore? Which room is avoided, his absence unable to be dealt with?


The pain is in your left hip now as well.


Spurred by questions, you start to write in your head. And re-write. You tear it apart and put it back together again, over and over and over. But nothing will ever be as good as the first draft.


You reach the corner again and come to a quick halt. The smile returns to your face as you pace in small circles, not allowing your legs to stop. You look down the road before you and see the posts. Half a mile to your driveway. You know what you have to do.


You take a few more deep breaths before taking off.


You are not a distance runner.

You are not in pain.

You are not emotionally torn.

You are not a girl.

You are not even human.


You are a sprinter. You are alive, and you are flying. Your feet are pounding the pavement faster than you ever thought possible. You are a shadow, passing unseen through the warm glow of streetlights.


Suddenly, you are past the driveway. You stop abruptly and turn back. Walking onto the grass, you yearn to collapse. Lay down and feel the cool grass on your back, legs, arms. But if you do that, you'll never get back up again. So instead, you start pacing. You take deep breaths, let your heart rate slow. You wipe the sweat from your forehead and upper lip. You look to the heavens and wish for pouring rain, for the air to release its humidity and cool your skin. But it is a cloudless sky, and the stars are beautiful.


Your breathing is slowly returning to normal, and you keep pacing. You're afraid to stop, afraid your hips will give out. Your muscles have oxygen again, the burning sensation gone from your lungs, so you walk to the middle of the grass, stop, and let it happen. Let yourself fall. You lay on your back, close your eyes, and let your mind go blank.


Your first and only thought is,
That was beautiful.