4 miles

 

you just want to die. but that seems like a lot of work. so you pull on your asics instead.

your head wants to run forever. we can beat this thing. trial of miles. cassidy.  sheehan. fleshman. spongebob. it’s just a matter of pushing till the demons can’t keep up. an endless run in which your brain loses interest and you can escape out the back door. but the legs are tired. your quads remind you of yesterday’s intervals. there aren’t enough miles in the world anyhow. you run the usual course, wave at the usual people, think the usual thoughts. turn off, brain. turn off. but of course, it doesn’t. because running doesn’t make the world go away. nothing seems to make sense anymore/except a blind man selling pencils by the store/nothing stays the same except the melody/and there’s only 32 days till christmas. you can’t outrun life. the world will always be waiting at the end of the run. at 3.4 you stop and sit on the bench on the edge of the ocean because it seems as good a place as any to spend the rest of your days. suddenly you’re back in the second grade in the alley singing texas, our texas. it’s a beautiful day. tiny white flowers with yellow dots are in full bloom. a miniature skateboarder zooms by. the breeze offers a welcome respite from the summer heat. the bay sparkles, a panorama that goes on forever within you and without you.  you try to think of a metaphor for the ocean. some great truth that puts life in perspective. the world going on and the grand scheme and the joy of a 4-mile run on a perfect day in june. something. anything. what about the carousel, todd? but there is no great meaning. it’s just a bunch of salty water. it cares not. come on mr. cuervo help me blow the candles out.  laurentology was wrong. trying hard doesn’t really matter at all. still, you trot gently home and begin the 24-hour wait to do it all over again. miles of trial. just another run …

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About gary

no sock monkeys were harmed in the making of this blog.
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