on running

Ready, ready, ready, ready...ready to run, All I’m ready to do is have some fun, What’s all this talk about love?- Dixie Chicks (Ready to Run)
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Can I paint you a picture?

The sky is a baby blue- just a hint of blue, really. There are clouds scattered, none of them spectacular in shape or size- just there, but unobtrusively. The sun shines down, and I think despite this obvious indicator, that the weather is a little cool- and so I should bring my jacket with me. I slip it on as an afterthought, as I run out the door and down to my car. Nothing I wear matches, my tennis shoes are bright yellow, my sweatpants are gray, I have an old white and red homecoming shirt, and a black jacket. I'm walking eye sore about to let out some pent up frustrations on a 1/2 mile track not far from my apartment.

The track looks as gorgeous as ever. It's this little oasis that I only recently discovered. The black tar stretches and twists in a large circle. A few tree's have been planted in the large open space that the track envelopes, but for the most part it's just a deep green grass that you want to lay out on, and stare at the sky. Sometimes I see little kids there, flying kites, mom's taking their kids for walks, the stroller bouncing along. Today there is just me, an older man running like his life depends on it, a woman who looks like she's in her mid-twenties walking the wrong way on the track, and an elderly lady, going for a stroll.

I put my ipod on, and start off walking- there are benches all around, marking off certain distances to me. I start to run. I am the kind of runner who sets a mark to run to, but doesn't want to see it at first. I want to look at my feet, and wait for the approach, know that it's coming, but not when it's coming. Just that it will be there. And then I look up- and that bench is so close, and I look at the sky- and I run as fast as I can, that burst of energy comes that I didn't really know was there before- but deep down I always knew was there to help me.

I stare at my feet- pounding on the black pavement. Right. Left. Right. Left. Yellow shoelaces flapping about- I wish I had tied the left one better, I think to myself. It's a little long, and keeps smacking up on my ankle. The song is playing loudly in my ears, as I run and think all the bad away.

I didn't need you, anyway.

I never liked Texas, much...

You didn't even like Wilco, or chinese food.

I somehow find these ridiculous thoughts comforting, as a I near my marker. I get my last spurt of energy, as I slow to a stroll. I gasp for breath, looking up at the sky.

Does it ever get any easier?