It’s the morning again. Breezes invade
thru open windows, but I am alone
again. I pull on my lime green shorts,
my purple bra. I drink gatorade
and do not miss some meaning
in every movement. Thirteen miles
are all that’s between me
and my self. Once, there was something
more than these sounds, this passion
for something so pointless, something
noone knows but me. Once, I rallied,
I faced down officers pointing tear gas
at me, I held my ground. I shouted.
I marched. Once, I saw the good,
I saw the purpose in every moment
of being still. Once, I held a girl
in my arms until I could no longer
tell where her body stopped and mine
started. Once I fought to be sure I was
heard. But now, now I pull on my shoes,
tuck a key into the tiny pocket
on my water bottle, and take
to the streets. I’ll just run
until it all fades away, so that I can feel
the motion, the impact. So I am free.
Yesterday, I ran four miles. I ran out to the deaf topiary gardens and back. Clouds were gathering over head. They were large and faded into a dark grey at their bottoms. It never rained.
I’ve not been running as much as usual lately. I’ve all the usual excuses, but really, I just needed break. I hope I’m ready to get back to it. I ran yesterday and tuesday, but now my ankle hurts. My ankles never hurt. grrrr. I’m making myself a little coffee. OK, a whole pot.
You see, I need to get myself back into gear so that I can run the Columbus Marathon again next year. So I can do better in it. You see, I ran it with bronchitis last year. It was HELL. I’m up and running again.
There are so many ways that people run. At least I’m not running emotionally.
On Saturday, I was, as a friend put it, slovenly. I lay around on the couch all day listening to the radio. I didn’t get anything done. I had all these plans, too. I was going to clean; I was going to go to the Quarter Horse Congress. I was going to play video games and make a nice dinner.
Sloth is never lonely, though. I can’t blame the friend I was slovenly with. I was looking for an excuse to do exactly what I did. And I also wasn’t feeling too great all day. It payed off, though.
After slovenly Saturday, I had a very productive Sunday. I ran. I ran pretty well, too. I felt fast. I washed laundry. I washed all the dishes and cleaned the counters. And the microwave. I worked on the story I’ve been avoiding.
So, friend, you see that sloth wasn’t so bad. I actually think it was good.
Speaking of the story, I did great work on it. I really think that taking that time away from it clarified the vision I had. It is heading off on an interesting path. It recently turned a corner, went over the river, and is intering into the woods. Soon, this story will be approaching Grandmother’s house.
While I never have trouble finishing a poem, I often have trouble wrapping a story up. I’ve said that a hundred times. Because of this bad history with ending things, I get really excited when I get close to finishing. I just need to keep focused.
is tomorrow. I still have bronchitis. I’m freaking out.
This is how I feel. Right now I think there could be blood seeping from beneath my eyelids. A friend told me not to run today. Like a stubborn jerk, I refused and ran. I felt like I had little specs of metal in my lungs. Grrrr.
In much better news, I just got a kitten. I haven’t named her yet, but she is cute and she likes to try and sleep in my armpit. I’ve never had a kitten before, and this one is really young. She is white with ginger tabby spots.
My job has been hectic lately, and so I have had no time to do any writing, which has left me at a loss for poetry thursday this week. Oh well, though. These things happen. Later, I plan on writing a review of the kick ass craft show I went to last weekend, the Craftin Outlaws.
Today, I ran the Homestretch 20 miler. Also known as the longest training run I will do before the Columbus marathon in October. I chatted with other runners on the course, cheered on the fast people who were on their way back as I just sweated my way to the turnaround point.
I met a lady who told me she started running in her late fifties. I told her that I hope to be just like her one day. She’s 65 now. This will be her tenth marathon. I also saw a girl I knew in High School. She is incredibly tall, so of course she is faster than I. This will be her first marathon.
While I was out there running, I thought about things. I thought about the story, which is nearly there, too. I thought about the protagonist, and what her fate will be. being a very low tech runner, I didn’t wear a watch or heart monitor, or any of that. I don’t like knowing how far I have to go. I think I tend to work the same way writing. While I develop plots vaguely, there is always an,”and then,” that I haven’t figured out. I do over-develop characters, though, and have to go back and change things later when they start acting odd. Or acting out, I suppose. No one ever wants to be what I think they should.
Well, I finished the race in 3:43. Not bad, not great, but not bad. I guess I’m looking at about 4:50 for the marathon. I wanted faster, but I don’t think it’s possible just now. This past week has been really hard. I’ve been tired, and the cooler weather has made everyone start to act out. I’ve been withdrawn. I need to eat something.
This weekend the dust was so thick on the trail where I like to run, that by the time I stopped to take off a shoe, it wasn’t the bright red and white that it was when I put it on. After my eighteen miles, I coughed and coughed. My throat was dry, no matter how much water I drank.
Yesterday, it was sweltering hot and I sweat all afternoon thru. Under my clothes, the humidity crept. I wanted to go home early.
But when I turned on the news this morning, the words were music. It’s raining, the streets are wet, and it will rain all day. The world is enveloped in a sheer curtain of glittering rain. Nature is singing.
Later, I will run. Later, I will be a part of it all. I’ll dodge the umbrellas and the ponds. I’ll be a shock to people who hide beneath awnings. It’s going to rain all day.