Running
The farther I run the more my lungs burn. This flame in my chest is screaming at me to slow down, breathe, but I can’t. Maybe if I run faster, all of this sour pain will fade into the shadows. The soles of my shoes pound into the cement as my feet drag my body along this road. The joints in my body plead for a break, but I press on, unwilling to stop. Wind brushed cheeks burn a bright rosy color, but the lack of light from the street lights hide it.
The words pound over and over in my head, like an axe hacking at the trunk of a tree. If I move my body through the night air faster, can I block out the sound with the wind? Faster, faster I urge my legs. These thighs are on fire, and ankles springing in agony. Hour after terrible hour I force myself further away from this miserable day, yet I only draw closer to new physical pain.
This creeping feeling of defeat begins to set in, and my feet begin to slow. I can’t do this much longer. If I stop running I feel like I have been crushed. Once my pace slows to a sluggish tempo there is no going back, no speeding up for a second time. My breath surprises me as I notice it for the first time all night. I hadn’t realized how bitterly cold the air really was this night.
A drop of sweat rolls down the small of my back underneath my shirt. The heat of my skin almost steams from against the iced air. Don’t stop, Can’t stop. I force forward up a hardened slope in the land. My heart aches and screams for rest, to curl up and cry, letting my muscles release. Tears replace the sweat and my rate increases even more. I struggle to keep my breathing regulated, but it is a battle to even intake breathes.
A dog barks as I pass his small homey yard, the one he does everything to protect. It is all really just a lie, one he could never understand. There is not a doubt in my mind that he would not be able to protect what he loves. Nobody tell him this though, let him pretend he is stronger than his built body portrays. One day he will be forced from this safety, whether it be the ghost of death, or some unnatural act of hate.
I give up; no longer can I keep up this terrible pace. My entire body is throbbing and exhausted. The small apartment I call home is just around the corner. I may have been running for what seemed like eternity, but my travels have only taken me around the block a few hundred times. I am through, and I will retire to the lonely sheets on my bed. I will resort to weeping until my fatigued eyes close for the night. Maybe I can see things in a new light when the sun breaks the horizon in the morning that is if I have enough energy to retie my running shoes and begin once again.