#getyourpraiseon


It’s the moments you lose touch with your humanity.
Merely animal instincts drive the movement. The natural transition of flow, dating through the history of man.

Reach. Grab. Pull. Push.
Reach. Grab. Pull. Push.

I confess, after an unplanned, surprisingly stressful day, the last thing I wanted to do was run. Really, I wanted to eat pizza and sleep.

However, with 40 minutes of sunlight left, temperatures dropping from 60℉ to 50℉ in no time flat, I decided to start moving.

At first it was just a walk. Feeling the cool air, trying to breathe, trying to push away the past of the day.

That turned into a light jog. Slowly downhill, pondering if “pushing it” would be ideal…

I started to lift my legs, stretching them out as if they were wings of Mercury.

Anger; it started seething through me. I could feel blood boiling, air pushing out through my teeth, jaw clenched. Only word uttered:

Faster.

Arms locked into their rhythmic, piston drive. I had already forgotten that two hills were cleared.

I could see my legs, lifting, stretching…higher and farther. Fear of my own history racing through my soul, pushing me to new heights.

Faster.

Sling-shot symmetry courses through my feet. They’re in unison curving around the two 90° corners; leading the final sprint of asphalt.

Faster.

There’s no fear left. There’s no thought process. Breathing locomotion takes over the mind, as the body runs itself.

Faster.

The end is near.

Faster.

The road ends.

Faster.

Finish alone.

Faster.

Run.

Faster.

Stop.

Staring at the sapphire sky, I allow a final breath. Acknowledging the journey’s end. A lifetime of thought, comprised into four minutes and 57 seconds, lasting a duration of one American mile.

image

It’s been four long years. Four years since I saw my mile time drop below five minutes.

I almost cried telling MC tonight.

-D-

…now just one more minute to go…

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